


Obsession

by RoyEdIsMyAesthetic



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist (Anime 2003), Fullmetal Alchemist - All Media Types
Genre: Abduction, Alternate Reality, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Attempted Murder, Attempted Rape/Non-Con, Attempted Seduction, Berlin (City), Blood, Car Accident, Childhood Memories, Dark, Dark Character, Dark Past, Dark Plot, Dark Romance, Delusions, Diary, Diary/Journal, Doctor/Patient, Elricest, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Eye Injury, Eye Trauma, Falling From Windows, Falling In Love, Fratricide, Germany, Gun Violence, Hospitalization, Hurt No Comfort, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Implied/Referenced Incest, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Injured Al, Injured Alphonse, Injured Ed, Injured Edward, Jealousy, Kidnapping, Letters, Love Triangles, M/M, Mental Breakdown, Mental Instability, Mental Institutions, Molestation, Murder, Murder Mystery, Mystery, Nightmares, Parallel Universes, Paralysis, Pedophilia, Psychologists & Psychiatrists, Rape Recovery, Rape/Non-con Elements, Romance, Sibling Bonding, Sibling Love, Sibling Rivalry, Snow, Some Heavy Shit, Suicide, Teacher-Student Relationship, Temporary Character Death, Thriller, Unrequited Love, Winter, anger issues, caretaker, child grooming, envy - Freeform, falling, human al, royed, snowstorm
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-01
Updated: 2018-05-17
Packaged: 2018-07-21 23:10:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 23
Words: 35,211
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7408870
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RoyEdIsMyAesthetic/pseuds/RoyEdIsMyAesthetic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An investigation concerning a series of kidnappings in Central form a disturbing connection to an illicit, and rather violent, romance between three unlikely partners. After having joined Hughes and the investigations division, Edward becomes increasingly unhinged and begins to doubt his own reality.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. [ Epigraph ]

He was only twelve years old. But one is never too young to learn an important lesson about love.

In the darkness that consumed him, the boy made no attempt to struggle against the bonds which bound him to the icy metal surface of the table. With his body heavy and broken, and his pale skin mottled with garish bruises of purple and gray, he bore everything with a quiet dignity. A breath whispering shallowly from his lungs was the only sound which had come from him in quite a while.

His scalp and the back of his neck prickled slightly as fingers toyed with his loose hair. A long lock was picked up between two fingers, gently, almost as if the handler were taking hold of a baby bird that could be crushed if one weren't too careful. A soft breath was heard in the distance as the fingers ran down the hair's length, entranced, as one is by a lustrous silk ribbon.

The fingers then stopped just before they reached the lock's end, and the faceless, nameless breath that had originally taken it in hand brought the end of the lock up to its lips.

And closing its eyes, it kissed it tenderly, just as a man would kiss the hand of an alluring woman upon their first meeting.

The lesson that Edward Elric had learned was that people will do absurd things for the sake of love. And later on, he would hope to God that this fact were not true, for in fact… he had done them.

The shadow of a hand ghosted over skin and cup his cheek. The hand did not touch him, yet he could feel its warmth, and so, wanting more, he furrowed his brow painfully and tilted his head slightly, leaning his bruised cheek into the palm.

Edward closed his eyes and sighed slightly with content, and it was in this moment that a sound broke the still and quiet air. Not the first sound exactly, but the first sound that held the weight of spoken word. Deliberate sound which can be interpreted as either true or false, or resting somewhere inbetween.

"You're beautiful... you know that?" a low voice cooed, echoing slightly in the empty room. "You're my favorite," it stated.

For some reason, those words had a great impact on Edward. The corners of his trembling lips turned upward into a small shaky smile as his heart swelled in his chest for the first time in a long time. He had forgotten what happiness was, and so those words were like a light shining in the dark, enveloping his entire being.

"R-R-Really?" Ed stuttered hoarsely, "I'm- I'm y-your fav-or... favorite?"

Ed then heard the voice above him let out a soft breath, almost as if surprised or offended. The hand was drawn away from his cheek, and he whined in protest at its absence.

"Of course you're my favorite, you-"

The voice paused.

Ed felt a warm finger gently wipe a tear away which had rolled from his eyes and out from underneath the blindfold that covered them. He whined quietly when the warmth of the finger was taken away.

"You're crying," the voice stated gently. "How come?"

"B-b-because I'm happy!" Ed whispered, "I’m your favourite- that’s who I am! I had forgotten… and now my search is over," His voice then broke, sliding into a quiet sob. "I'm so happy..."

"Oh..." the voice breathed sympathetically, "But you should have known that you’re my favorite. It pains me to think that you would believe otherwise."

"I'm sorry!" Ed suddenly whimpered, "I'm so sorry..."

"Remember, you are very special to me." The voice ran a hand over the boy's forehead, pushing back his long bangs. "You're so very special. You love me more than him, and you give yourself to me. Never has there ever been a greater love than this, and that is why you’re so very special. You are so  _very_  special to me."

"I... I am?" Ed asked quietly.

Ed's voice then caught in his throat as he suddenly felt the familiar caress of sharpened steel, slowly tracing a path from his bare stomach, over the plane of his chest, and it came to rest on the fragile skin at the base of his neck. His body stiffened when he felt the knife turn so it lay horizontally against his throat, hovering only a millimeter over his skin.

His body trembled so, and in a panic brought about by human instinct and the desire to flee, he struggled to control his breathing, his breath coming short and sharp. As he gasped for air, his throat knocked up against the metal, getting nicked and forcing droplets of blood to rise to the surface for air.

The voice bent its head down. Ed could feel its hot breath in the shell his ear, just as he did every time he and the voice made love. But this horrible, wonderful time, each time the voice spoke, it pressed the knife deeper into the his throat.

"Edward Elric..." the hot breath said.

The voice paused and the boy could almost feel it's wide grin- he felt that grin send a shiver down his spine and his stomach turned just before he took in a sharp gasp and his throat constricted as the blade was deliberately brought down into his skin, just enough to let warm blood seep up.

"You are my one..."

Blood raced down the sides of Ed's pale neck and pattered against the cold floor as the blade was forced deeper, causing the boy to let out a sickening, guttural sound which was stopped short- the cry of a bird cut with the snapping of its neck.

"And my only..."

A wet sound was heard as the blade was dug even deeper. The voice put its free palm against the dull top edge of the knife, ready to put some force behind that final downward push. A smirk spread across the voice's face as it shook its head.

"And you are my always."

The slow and steady flow of blood increased to a gush, filling the floor with the color of crimson and the scent of iron. Its metallic tang mixed with that of the blade, red as roses on a wedding day, or perhaps those resting above a grave, cold and lonely. But either way, all was done in love-a love like no other.

For when Edward loved, he gave all of himself. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The quality of the writing changes as the story goes on because I'm in the process of slowly editing it. Not changing the story at all, but just rewriting things.


	2. [ Recognition ]

He kissed a girl before.

Edward made up his mind to only kiss men nowadays, which he thought gave the previous statement a bit more of a punch. His father was away as usual, and he and his neighbour, Winry, were eight years old.

She asked him to kiss her. Not because she liked him in any way- boys were gross- but as she would explain later, planted within her was beginning to form a seed of doubt. Perhaps, just perhaps… he loved her for herself. For who she was. It’s a rather complex subject for a person so young to understand, but she was beginning to comprehend it. And wish for it.

And so, she asked him to kiss her. And to shut her up, Edward did.

Her lips were warm. Her lips were soft. But there was something so…  _fake_  about that kiss. There was no emotion behind what Edward did- that kiss had no life in it- it was dead, it was a dead kiss...

And that is why whenever we raise a teacup to our lips, it is not a kiss, but rather, a simple sip. And it is dead, as are many others.

"The first one was Elizabeth Henbrook. Female. Age ten. Blonde hair and blue eyes. A body hasn't been recovered. Second was Daria Poer. Female. Age twelve. Blonde hair and hazel eyes. No body recovered. Next was Warner Abram. Male. Age eleven. Blond hair and blue eyes. Again, no body recovered. After that was Aaron Rotar. Blond hair and brown eyes. Age twelve. After that was..."  
  
Maes Hughes closed his hazel eyes and crossed his arms, leaning back in his chair as he dug up the rest of the names from his memory. He tried to visualize the order of the files he had been flipping through at his desk only a couple of hours earlier.   
  
"Ryan Askeroth..." he hummed hesitantly. "Damien Felders, Ethan Lenson, Lawrence Clarke, Richard Harland, Ian Wainwright, and then finally, Clarence Bedsom. Age eleven. Blond hair. Green eyes. No body recovered."  
  
He then opened his eyes and looked at the two figures who sat listening intently before him at the table in the outdoor cafe. "That makes eleven children," he stated. "Eleven children taken in a span of two and a half months. Their families lived in homes all over Central. None of them knew each other."  
  
"But the children… they were all the same," twelve year old Edward Elric interrupted, setting his teacup down beside the plate which held his long forgotten slice of cake. He looked up at Hughes with large, liquid gold eyes filled with a thoughtful sort of intent which went beyond his years. "They were all between the ages of ten or twelve and they all had blond hair."  
  
It was then that the suit of armor sitting beside him spoke for the first time in a long time.  
  
"And also, the first two to disappear were girls and all the rest after were boys, isn't that right, Lieutenant Colonel Hughes?"  
  
The three of them were interrupted by a red haired waiter who stepped up alongside the table. In hand, he had a porcelain saucer and a cup, and he looked from Alphonse to Hughes, wondering who he should give it to.  
  
"Coffee. Black," he announced.  
  
Hughes leaned back casually in his seat and lifted a hand slightly. The waiter set the steaming cup in front of him.  
  
"Thank you very much," Hughes said with an appreciative smile.  
  
The waiter nodded his head and walked away, and as he did, Edward followed him with his eyes. Whether it was out of suspicion, curiosity, or details that grab the attention of the wandering mind, he didn't quite know.   
  
Hughes then sat forward again, putting his elbows atop the table. He gazed down at the cup, at the deep, dark lake inside whose surface sparkled in the late afternoon sun. His hazel eyes then flicked over to the waiter's back before they fell upon the two boys sitting in front of him.  
  
His gaze softened.  
  
"Listen, I..." Hughes paused. "I wouldn't be pulling you two into this and asking for your help if it weren't absolutely necessary, you have to understand that. Elicia doesn't fit the kidnapper's method of operation… but to think that children as innocent as my darling daughter are being ripped away from their parents like that..."  
  
"You don't need to apologize," Ed interrupted, "We understand."  
  
"Don't trust anyone," Hughes said warningly. "Promise me that you two will be careful."  
  
"Yeah, we promise," Ed sung.  
  
Edward froze when Hughes put a hand onto his arm. Hughes looked at Edward with a pleading look in his eyes.  
  
"Don't promise me like you do all the other times, Ed, when you say that you'll be careful and then you end up in the hospital, alright? You should've seen it, these kids...they weren't just randomly snatched off of the streets; they were followed and they were taken from their bedrooms as their parents slept. They were targeted. I care about you boys, I really do, and I don't want you to get hurt, understand?"  
  
Ed blinked, surprised by Hughes' sudden outburst.  
  
"We know, Hughes," Ed said in a calm voice, searching the adult's eyes. "We'll be careful. For real this time," he added.  
  
A few hours later, Edward thought back on the event as he and Alphonse walked side by side along the cobblestone path that ran just along the river that wrapped around Central's outer edge. The brothers had gone out to investigate a private collector's library, and finding no information relevant to them and the Philosopher's Stone, they thanked the aging owner and decided to head back to the military dorms.  
  
In the daylight hours, the river's water looked clean and sparkling. On hot summer days, it beckoned passerby's to stop and dip their feet into its waters.  
  
But on dark nights like that one, the water took on the color that crude oil sometimes takes.  
  
Black.  
  
Tonight, its calm surface was swaddled in a gossamer veil of white which writhed and curled with delight in the cool, crisp air. With the fog covering the river's surface, one could forget that it was even there. They could make one wrong move off of the elevated street, and find themselves plunging into the murky depths below which had been so inviting only hours before.  
  
Ed and Al's footfall echoed through the empty streets as they walked along the edge of the abyss.  
  
"Hughes was really freaked this afternoon," Ed stated, putting his hands into his leather pant pockets. "I've never seen him lose his cool like that. I mean... he goes soft whenever he has time to show off Elicia's baby pictures, but..." He paused, his eyes narrowing with thought. "This is different."  
  
"He was really concerned… wasn't he?" Alphonse asked softly.  
  
Ed silently kicked the toe of a leather boot against the raised cobblestone beneath his feet.

"He wasn't telling the truth," he said suddenly. When he felt Alphonse's eyes upon him, he explained further. "Well yeah, he was telling the truth, but he wasn't telling all of it. He was hiding something. It takes a lot more than that to really scare the Lieutenant Colonel. Tougher than he looks," Edward added.  
  
"Yeah, but I don't know, Brother. I mean, if he-"  
  
"Wait a minute," Ed said suddenly, stopping in his tracks. "What's that over there?"  
  
"Over where?"  
  
Ed said nothing in reply before he quickly walked off to the side and crouched down before a dark puddle that had collected on the ground. But upon further examination...  
  
Alphonse took a hesitant step forward. "Is that..."  
  
Edward carefully dabbed the tips of his fingers to the wet substance on the cobblestone and rubbed it gently between the pads of his fingers, testing it's viscosity. He wasn’t one to be squeamish, but he felt his stomach turn ever so slightly with the conclusion that he came to.  
  
"Blood," Ed stated, "And a lot of it too."  
  
Ed's eyes followed the blood smear that went on for about a yard, stopped, and continued farther on.  
  
Alphonse put his hands to his head. "Someone must be really hurt..." he muttered.  
  
Both boys turned their heads as they heard someone's footfall pattering quickly across the pavement. In the dark, they didn't see who it was, but by following the sound, they could tell that they had ducked into a dark, damp, alleyway between two buildings facing the river.  
  
Edward slowly stood to his feet. "Hello?" he called. "Who's there..."  
  
In the silence that shrouded the night air, they heard whoever it was let out a single shaky, heavy breath. Edward narrowed his eyes and cautiously began to walk toward the alleyway. Al followed closely behind him.  
  
Though Edward was walking slowly, his heart sped in his chest, thumping faster and faster.  
  
He didn't like this. He didn't like this at all; something deep in his gut was telling him that something was very wrong- he felt it the very moment he saw the pool of blood on the ground.  
  
But he ignored his feelings. And he continued forward.  
  
As the brothers stood at the entrance of the alleyway, they heard no response from the person they had called out to. They only saw a tall figure dressed in dark clothes, pressing their back against one of the brick walls to the side. A faint plopping was heard, almost like the sound water makes when it drips out of the faucet and gently hits the bottom of the basin.  
  
Ed wet his lips before speaking.  
  
"Hey... are you alright?" he asked softy. "Did you see what happened here?"  
  
Ed looked up at his younger brother when he felt a heavy gauntlet touch his shoulder.  
  
"Brother... look," Alphonse said softly.  
  
Edward's eyes dropped down to the man's side. Though the light was dim, Ed could see that the man's pale fingers were wrapped around something- they were gripping something by a handle. The man shifted slightly, and Ed saw the glint of bloodstained steel.  
  
Ed's eyes widened with surprise, and he took a step back, and that when the man in black sprang into action. He lunged forward at Ed as fast as viper, swiping his blade at him and pushing past both he and his brother, knocking them both to the side. The man then took off running down the street lining the river, but there was a second delay before Edward finally felt it.   
  
Ed suddenly let out a sharp cry, and his face twisted with pain as he doubled over slightly, clenching his teeth with agony.  
  
Alphonse quickly put a hand to his brother's back. "Ed! Are you alright?!"  
  
At first, the pain was dull, but then realization hit and it shocked his nerves, leaving Ed breathless. Shutting his eyes tightly, Ed hissed through his teeth and pressed a hand hard against his side, just underneath his rib cage.  
  
When he brought his trembling hand back, his palm and his fingers were stained bright red. Ed then pressed his hand back to his wound, though it did nothing to lessen the sharp pain that radiated from it. His heart skipped a beat as he noticed the warm blood trickling down from the spaces in between his fingers.  
  
"Ed, you're hurt!" Alphonse said loudly.  
  
Edward winced, and bending slightly forward at the waist, he shook his head dismissively. "No, it's alright," he hissed, "It's a shallow cut, just chase after him, Al!"  
  
"But-"  
  
"Go!" Ed snapped.  
  
Alphonse turned around and took off running out of the alleyway and around the corner, out of sight.  
  
Edward watched him go out of the corner of his eye and then let out a deep breath before quickly clapping his hands together. Electric blue alchemic energy and snapped and cracked around his hands for just a second as he drew his bloody palm across his automail arm, transmuting it into a blade.  
  
He then ran out of the alleyway and his eyes widened with surprise as the ground trembled beneath his feet. He skidded to a halt just as Alphonse put his hands to the ground and transmuted stone bars up from the ground in an attempt to cage the suspicious character, but the man in black ran in an arch around him and drew the two pistols which were concealed in the holster at his side.

Running toward Alphonse, the man in black expertly fired five shots in quick succession, the sound ripping through the air and ending in a satisfying ping as the bullets ricocheted off of Alphonse's armor helmet. One, two, three, four, five, and then Al’s helmet went flying off completely.  
  
Edward shouted his younger brother's name.  
  
Alphonse reached for his armor head as it went flying through the air, and it bounced off of tip of one of his fingers before it went tumbling even further away. Al ran after it before he let out a loud yelp. He felt his armor body fall off of the edge of the earth as he accidentally stepped off the edge of the elevated walk and down the side of the stone wall that led into the dark and foggy waters below.

A ringing sound was heard as the helmet hit the thin strip of walkway at the bottom before it landed in the water with a splash. Alphonse's metal body thudded against the side wall as he grabbed the edge of the walk at the last second in order to avoid falling.  
  
"You okay, Al?!" Ed shouted.  
  
"Never better!" Alphonse shouted back, dangling from the edge of the elevated walk.   
  
Edward turned back to the man in black, noticing his ski-mask for the first time. The man flipped his pistols around in his fingers before he put them away again. A smirk spread across Edward's face.  
  
"Nice trick!" he said, "You'll be happy to know what I have a few up my own sleeve!"  
  
Edward clapped and brought his hands against the ground, transmuting a wall of stone that rose up from the ground and slid quickly at the man and black who dodged it, coming after Edward. Edward did the same thing another time and the wall of concrete slammed against the brick wall of the building right after the man in black jumped over it, landed with a forward roll, and swung a punch at Edward's chin which Ed blocked with his automail arm.  
  
"Why were you running away?" Ed asked jokingly with an impish smile. "Makes you look awful guilty, doesn't it?!"  
  
The man in black hissed slightly as he shook his hand in an attempt to make the throbbing in his knuckles go away. It was then that Edward kicked a boot at the man's stomach, making him grunt and sending him stumbling back and ripping through the yellow tape that blocked off the beginning of the wooden bridge that was currently being built across the river.  
  
"Can't talk?!" Ed asked loudly. "Somebody cut out your tongue?!"  
  
Ed sauntered across the wooden deck after him and swept his leg in an attempt to bring the man in black to the ground. To Ed's surprise, the man jumped over and managed to grab the collar of his red coat, swinging him around and sending him stumbling back to the wooden floor which creaked loudly under his weight. The man in black took the opportunity to step forward, and reeling back one foot, he delivered a kick to Edward's jaw which sent his head flying back and screaming with pain. Wide eyed, Edward tasted hot, coppery blood flowing freely into his mouth. On the floor, he crawled back, and the wood below him moaned and screamed, and suddenly, it gave out altogether, falling out from beneath him.  
 _  
_ _"Ed!"_ he heard Alphonse scream sharply.  
  
Surprise and the sudden drop he felt in his stomach made him unable to answer, and up above from the hole in the half-finished bridge, he saw the man in black reach out a hand toward him, almost as if he wanted to stop him from falling.  
  
That was the last thing that went through Ed's mind as his back and his head came into contact with the strip of concrete walk below and his vision was shrouded in black.  
  
Ed didn't know how much time passed before he opened his eyes. He winced as he rolled over and a high pitched, grinding squeal tore through his skull. The only thing it could be compared to was nails on a chalkboard, amplified ten times over. Ed thought his ears would bleed, but to his relief, it was then that the sound began to fade. The white mist that swirled over the water and the walk crawled over his legs and chest. Slowly, he sat up and groaned, putting a hand to his forehead.  
  
" _Agh_ … it really isn't my night is it?"  
  
Ed moved his other hand and whimpered slightly when a biting, electric pain shot up his forearm, lessening gradually into a dull ache. Looking down at his wrist, he didn't need a medical professional to tell him that it was broken. It was clearly bruised and was already starting to swell up.  
  
It was only further proof that tonight was not his night.  
  
Ed blinked his eyes and looked over at the quiet river. He bet that if you dropped a pin right then, you would be able to hear it echoing over and over.  
  
He went to his feet and quickly put a hand over the wound on his side. It had stopped bleeding. That was good, right?  
  
But where was Al? And where was the other guy?  
  
Ed looked up at the wooden bridge above, and squinted his eyes, looking at the crisscrossing rafters and support beams. Above, he saw the hole and the splintered wood. And above that, he could see the cloudy night sky. But there was something else, hanging down beside that small opening, over the river- a rope- which swung slightly back and forth like a pendulum, taut because of the weight that hung from its end.  
  
Over the water, a dark shape swung back and forth. Back and forth. Back and forth.  
  
A shiver went down Ed's spine as he hesitantly took a step forward and squinted his eyes, looking at the weight on the rope's end.  
  
His eyes widened and his breath caught in his throat.  
  
The dark water was disturbed ever so slightly as it was stroked by delicate fingers on a single open hand. The fingers were as white as lilies and they curled ever so slightly like the flower too, petals crimping and folding up as the sun said its farewells. Ed's eyes followed the fingers up to a thin, pale wrist, and from there, they traveled up a long, pale left arm, and the dark red liquid that trailed down it.  
  
Ed had almost mistaken it for a striped pattern on a shirt sleeve, but no. It was blood.  
  
And the blood soaked into long blonde hair. And as the suspended ballerina clad in red, slowly spun around to face Ed, he caught sight of her stomach, cut open and blooming like a rose, red with ribbons of soft tissues and organs looping and dripping down, spilling blood onto a delicate face and seeping into wide, lifeless blue eyes and the blood from her neck rushed to greet her mouth which was open wide as if caught mid-scream.  
  
But all of that didn't matter. None of that mattered. What mattered was that he realized… he realized that he had kissed that girl before.

And since he made up his mind to only kiss men nowadays, the previous statement had just a bit more of a punch...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hidden Message: Look at the first names of the children listed at the beginning. Write down the first letter of each of their first names in order.
> 
> Pretty freaky, isn't it?


	3. [ Sight ]

He didn't remember. And maybe that was for the best.

The events which took place earlier that night, oh yes, Edward remembered that. It was seared into his memory like the image of the sun locked into the backs of ones eyes. Like that, it... It left behind something wrong.

An unwelcome heaviness upon shoulders, and a clouded mind.

Alphonse and four police officers decked in blue stood around the hospital bed where he sat upright against the pillows. Beneath his pale blue hospital gown, Ed had bandages wrapped tightly around his abdomen, and on his left hand and forearm, he wore a plain white cast.

Physically, the doctors had said that Edward was going to be alright, and he could leave the hospital the very next day. But ever since he had been found underneath the bridge, Alphonse had been throwing him furtive glances. To others, each look that his younger brother gave was exactly the same as the next, but Edward could feel it. It was subtle, like the change in the pressure of the air just before a storm, but yes, Edward could feel it. And because he could feel it, he could misconstrue his brother's concern into something else.

Knowledge.

Unwanted knowledge.

The ability to see what lies beneath.

A police officer flipped over a page of the notepad she was holding, quickly clicked her ballpoint pen, and then touched its tip to blank paper.

"What did you see, Major? Please explain what happened from start to finish."

Business-like and straight to the point.

Tiredly, Edward shifted slightly against the pillows, his body and mind both heavy with morphine. His mouth was dry and his voice was broken, but to his brother's surprise, he was able to fight against the spinning of his thoughts and bring himself to answer. But each word was an effort, both of body and of spirit.

"Alphonse... Alphonse and I were walking along the river," Ed answered sleepily. "I saw blood on the ground and we found someone hiding in a nearby alleyway. We thought that they were hurt, but they attacked me with a knife. Later, when we were fighting, I broke through the bridge... I broke through the bridge, and I fell, and I saw her hanging above with a rope wrapped around her foot."

"Did you happen to see your attacker's face?" one of the other officers questioned. "Can you describe it?"

"He was wearing a ski mask," Alphonse interrupted, "But his eyes were light in color. Blue or gray or hazel maybe."

"I thought it was someone I knew..." Ed whispered, ignoring the officer's question and continuing his story.

As he went on, he quickly found that with each word he spoke, panic swelled just a bit more in his chest. But he continued on, finding himself unable to stop, his mouth and vocal chords having a mind of their own, the mind instead running away.

"I thought it was Winry Rockbell, a childhood friend, but... but it wasn't. I could have sworn it was Winry. I could have bet my life on it, but... but it was Elizabeth Henbrook, the first girl to go missing. Her right arm had been cut off and so had her left leg. She was hanging upside-down by her foot, by a rope. And her stomach was cut open. And her intestines were spilling out of her and her mouth was wide open so it looked like she was screaming. I thought that she was screaming... but it was just myself. It was just myself..."

Edward was tugged back into the present as Hughes came through the open door. Walking up toward the group, he stopped and put a hand upon Second Lieutenant Haverson's shoulder, the action both familiar and encouraging a sense of compliance.

"Leave the major alone and give him some space," he calmly requested . "He can answer all of your questions later. It's been a long night for all of us. I'm sure you all would like to return home."

Haverson nodded. "Of course, Lieutenant Colonel Hughes." As Hughes removed his hand from her shoulder, she turned to the other officers. "We're heading out," she announced.

The four officers began to file out of the hospital room without saying a word.

Edward clapped and brought his hands against the ground, transmuting a wall of stone that rose up from the ground and slid quickly at the man in black who expertly jumped over it, landed with a forward roll, and swung a punch at Edward's chin, the strike blocked by Ed's automail arm.

Edward called out to the last person to exit the room.

"Second Lieutenant Haverson?"

The officer paused in her tracks and turned around, raising an eyebrow. "Yes, Major Elric?"

"The way the guy was fighting... he was military. Or ex-military."

Haverson's brow furrowed slightly. "Really?" she asked. "Are you sure?"

Ed nodded his head slightly. "Yes. I'm positive."

She glanced over at Hughes before speaking, knowing that she should be on her way. "Thank you," she said with a nod. "We'll keep that in mind."

With that, Haverson saluted to Ed and Hughes and exited the room, closing the door quietly behind her. Ed let out a sigh and took interest in his hands which lay folded in his lap.

Hughes's eyes finally met Ed's. On the man's face was what Ed recognized as a mixture of pity and concern.

"I'm sorry, Ed. This is all my fault, you shouldn't have had to see what you saw tonight."

But it's alright for everyone else, because they're so much older. Because they've been through so much more, but you? You're too young. You're too fragile.

Was all of that true? Sometimes Ed felt like that was true; sometimes he did feel like the world around was too much. But it was Colonel Roy Mustang who had instilled in him the idea that things were otherwise, and so to go against that idea was to go against both Mustang himself and Edward's will to be stronger.

"I'm not a child, Lieutenant Colonel," Ed argued, his voice still soft. "I can handle things like this."

Hughes opened his mouth, but he froze when the younger Elric brother wrapped the fingers of an empty gauntlet around his wrist.

"What he means to say is that it's alright," Alphonse said. "It wasn't your fault. Really, it wasn't."

Hughes gave Al a small appreciative smile which quickly fell.

"Thank you Alphonse, but I'm taking you two off the case. You should pack your bags and leave the city as soon as possible. Take the earliest train you can get tomorrow afternoon."

The suspended ballerina clad in red slowly spun around to face Ed, her stomach sliced down the middle, the ribbons of soft tissues and organs looping and dripping down to greet him.

"I'm not leaving," Edward said suddenly, looking up at Hughes with determination in his golden eyes. "I'm going to help catch this guy; I'm not going to let him get away with what he did to that girl!"

"I know that you feel strongly about this- I admire you for it. But this is something bigger than you understand, and you need to leave the city and pro-"

"You can't force me go, Hughes, even if you want to!" Ed said, raising his voice and gripping the bed sheets tightly in his automail fist.

"Blonde hair, same age as you, you might as well be next," Hughes said loudly, "Hell, we even have reason to believe that the killer has an eye on you specifically! You don't understand the gravity of the situation- there's more going on here than you know. You need to protect yourself!"

"This isn't happening again; this isn't going to be like last time with Nina and her bastard of a father! I swear, this isn't going to end in blood!" Edward paused and lowered his head again. "We're going to stop it this time..." he said softly.

After a silence fell, a small smile of understanding touched Hughes' lips.

"You have a big heart, Edward. I can't force you to leave, but... Just let me take care of it. If we need you to help with the case, we'll give you call, but in the meantime, you and your brother can stay over at my family's home. It'll be just for a little while."

It wasn't what Edward wanted, but it was good enough.

"Alright," he said with a nod.

After a moment, Hughes' hazel eyes widened, as if he suddenly remembered something. He reached into his coat and pulled out a sheet of paper that was neatly folded in half.

"Roy gave me this report to give to you when you came around," he said, handing the paper to Edward. "He wants you to rewrite it when you have the time, but just make sure that he doesn't work you too hard."

Edward silently unfolded the paper, his eyes narrowing as he carefully studied the words written upon it, almost as if they weren't his own. Thoughtfully, he began to chew his lower lip as his eyes remained glued to the page.

"What is it?" Alphonse questioned curiously.

Edward quickly folded the paper in half, and then again into fourths.

"Nothing," he said, offering his brother a reassuring smile. "It was nothing."

"Alright then. I've finished my business here for the night, so I'll be leaving. As soon as you are released from the hospital, Edward, give me a call, and I'll be sure to send a car over to pick you up."

Alphonse glanced at Edward with glowing red eyes and then turned to Hughes. The look was subtle, like the change in the pressure of the air just before a storm, but yes, Edward could feel it. And because he could feel it, he could misconstrue his brother's concern into something else. There was something in the way that he looked from one individual to the other that Edward found threatening. Personally threatening.

Hughes turned, about to make his way to the door. But before he could take a single step, a heavy leather gauntlet was gently placed upon his arms.

"Lieutenant Colonel Hughes?" Alphonse called.

"Yes, Alphonse?"

"Before you leave, there's something that I want to ask... that I wasn't able to ask the doctors about earlier. Concerning my brother," he added.

Hughes nods his head, encouraging him to go ahead.

"Ed saw something- he saw someone... who wasn't there. He mistook the girl who was murdered for Winry. And I might be looking more deeply into something than I should, but that's something that's been bothering me."

Hughes' brow furrowed with confusion.

"I'm afraid I don't understand what you're trying to say, Al."

"Is something wrong with Ed? Is my brother... sick? Is that why he saw something that he shouldn't have?"

Wrong?

Sick?

Edward's thoughts spun. He had seen what he thought that he had seen, and that was all. Was that so wrong? Or did Alphonse also come to this conclusion because of the dream which Edward had divulged- the one of the table, the one of the blood, the one of his unseen captor? Is it wrong to see what isn't real?

Of was he referring to something else?

"Come on, Al... I'm... I'm not crazy!"

"Your brother didn't say that," Hughes interrupted, looking from one brother to the other. "He's just concerned about you."

"I'm perfectly fine!" Ed argued.

"You've been acting strange lately, Brother! You go out at night, and I don't know where because you won't tell me! When you don't go out, you have horrible nightmares, and then this... this horrible thing happens, and you claim to see something that just isn't true! I just... I just want to know that you're alright."

"I am, Al. I really am."

But did he himself believe it?

"And if you weren't would you tell me?" Alphonse questioned.

Across Edward's vision flashed the thought of someone. The thought of someone, and nothing more, and it was with this brief vision that Edward knew his answer.

"No. No, I wouldn't."


	4. [ Philía ]

Edward was discharged early, and instead of going back to the dorms and getting rest like the doctors had ordered, he and Alphonse paid a visit to the small, dusty library which had been left abandoned in a hidden corner of Headquarters.

  
Although the kidnappings and recent murder were under the jurisdiction of the Investigations Office and the Investigations Office only, with it's unusual circumstances and gory details, the news of the event spread through Central Military Command like wildfire. As Edward and Alphonse sat back-to-back on the floor with leather-bound books in hand, they heard officers walking just outside of the front door, exchanging thoughts between one another. Each overheard rumor or tidbit of information shared was a stab to Edward's heart.  
  
He supposed that was because talking about it made it true. Fiction into fact. The abstract made concrete because it is written in stone.   
  
"I thought this could have been some creepy child-collecting pedophile behind the kidnappings, but this is just... this is just something else..." an officer said in a hushed voice.  
  
"Crazy, that's what it is!" interjected another. "Who does that to a kid? You can't be sane, take a knife and use it to-"  
  
Edward felt the suit of armor shift slightly behind his back out of discomfort. With a faraway look in his eyes, Ed looked up from the academic journal he had stopped reading an hour ago.  
  
"Ed?" Alphonse called softly.  
  
"Yeah, Al?"  
  
"What's... what's a pedophile?" Al questioned in a hushed tone. He understood the weight that it held in the context of a sentence, but he didn't understand what it meant. Or why it was bad. "Officer Andre said it just now," he added quickly for clarification.   
  
Ed went quiet for a moment. He let out a quiet breath and looked back down at his book. "We're in a library," he finally said bluntly, pretending to be interested on the words on the page, even though interest and focus were far and few between these days. "Look it up in an encyclopedia or something."  
  
Al wasn't sure if Ed had told him to look it up because he didn't know the answer himself or because it would just be easier to read the definition in print. Either way, Alphonse stood and disappeared behind a wall of bookshelves. A minute or two later, he reappeared and silently sat back down beside his elder brother where he began to flip through pages. He stopped at one page and slowly guided a finger downward, looking for the right word.  
  
"P... P-E... P-E-D... Pedophilia," Alphonse finally read in a hushed, but echoing tone. "Pedophilia is considered a paraphilia, an "abnormal or unnatural attraction. Pedophilia is defined as adults having the fantasy of or performing-" Alphonse paused and went quiet for a moment. He continued, but spoke in a voice barely louder than a whisper. "...or performing sexual acts with... with prepubescent children aged thirteen or younger..."  
  
 _Pedophiles are usually men, and can be attracted to either or both sexes. Offenders are usually family friends or relatives. Types of activities vary and may include just looking at a child or undressing and touching a child. Some pedophiles may be as attracted to adults as they are to children, but it's hard to know how common this is. That's because most pedophilia research is based on people who were arrested for sexual offenses against children, and they may tend to exaggerate their sexual interest in adults to seem more "normal". Studies suggest that children who feel uncared for or lonely may be at higher risk._  
  
Edward had left Alphonse alone in the library, and with a heavy heart, he now stood alone in the middle of Colonel Roy Mustang's office, wondering if he should leave or sit and wait.

His back was to the doorway, but he felt it. He felt eyes on his back, sending a tingling sensation crawling up his spine like wandering fingertips, the sensation not exactly pleasant, but not exactly disturbing either. Just... odd.

Edward turned to face Jean Havoc, who leaned against the doorframe in a cool, calm manner. Gray smoke circled from the lit cigarette in his mouth, the vapors twisting and curling in the air like a tormented spirit as the blonde military man observed.

And did nothing else.

To Edward's surprise, Havoc looked different. Not 'different person' different, but it was as if the aura which usually surrounded the man had changed ever so slightly. Something within him had twisted in the wrong direction like an iron nail bent at its middle, and that was something which Edward understood. He too had felt that way since the beginning, but it had yet to manifest in his appearance.

The skin just beneath Havoc's eyes was just a bit darker, just a bit more sunken, and just a bit more harsh. And his eyes... it was as if they were made of glass- glistening, but missing that certain spark that tells people that life is there.

But despite all of this, because Edward understood this state of being even at such a young age, he ignored it, and went on as if everything were alright.

"The Colonel around?" Ed questioned quietly.

Havoc replied without bothering to take the cigarette out from between his mouth.

"Always," he said, smoke escaping from between his lips. His voice was mellow as ever, but it was also a bit quieter. Maybe tinged with something else.

"Always?" Edward repeated softly.

"Practically lives here, doesn't he?" Havoc clarified.

Edward supposed this was true, at least, in the eyes of others. If people only spent as much time as he did with Mustang, maybe they'd see him in a different light. They'd see how he... how he acted when he was at home. How he felt. How he looked.

"You look tired," Edward remarked curiously, "You never look tired- only a bit worn out once in a while..."

Havoc plucked the cigarette out of his mouth with nicotine stained fingertips as a quiet chuckle of amusement bubbled from between his lips.

"Well... only ever if I can help it," he said.

Reaching out, Havoc ruffled Edward's hair, and then turned and walked out the door, leaving behind a slightly annoyed alchemist to flatten his tousled golden hair.

Havoc disappeared down the hall, but Edward heard the man call out him, speaking as if the words he said had been spoken only a hundred times before.

"Remember, you can only use the telephone with a staff member's permission."

Edward narrowed his eyes with confusion. When has he  _ever_  used a phone in Central Command? Payphones, yes, he used them all the time, but... The phone?

Turning on his heels, Edward turned his attention to the black rotary phone which sat atop Roy's desk among mountains of paperwork yet to be done. He thought himself to be a bit silly in thinking so, but for some reason, he found that object to be almost daunting. It was something usually overlooked, blending in with the atmosphere as appliances and furniture sometimes do, but... it drew him in.

There was a strange magnetism between he and the phone on the desk, and it pulled him toward it with a purpose. And the sudden ringing of the phone- the urgency of the sound- it cried to him to not answer it, but for it to give an answer to him, and it drew him even closer.

Without hesitation, flesh fingers curled around the handset and brought it to ear, but before anyone could speak, the phone slipped from Edward's fingers and clattered loudly upon the desk.

Edward turned around quickly when he heard the door close softly behind him, not having heard it being opened in the first place. His eyes widened when they fell upon the tall, dark haired, twenty seven year old officer who stood there calmly with his hands tucked into his pant pockets.

The phone was forgotten.

Everything else was forgotten.

Just like that.

Roy stood in the doorway, and he carried with him that certain air of authority that he held when times were tough. But behind that air, or perhaps facade, he held something else.

Something softer.   
  
"Colonel..." Ed breathed.  
  
Roy blinked his eyes slowly and his shoulders relaxed. Edward's name dripped off of his lips, nice, and calm, and easy.

"Fullmetal."  
  
Edward continued to stare and he waited a beat, feeling his chest rise and fall slightly before he spoke again, his heart swelling with a certain ache. He bowed his head and balled up his trembling hands at his sides as the events of the recent past washed over him like the tide. The weight he carried, his fear, his innocence, his everything- it all rose to the surface.

"Did you hear?" Ed asked quickly. "Did you hear what happened?"  
  
He could hear himself. And at the moment, he felt so foolish, but at the moment, it didn't matter. It didn't matter at all.   
  
Roy nodded his head slightly. "Yes, I heard. Are you... are you alright?"  
  
Edward bit his lower lip and hesitantly shook his head. When he spoke, his voice broke and came out as a whimper. "No... I... feel like there's something..."

Edward paused, grasping at his words, fighting against the tightness which swelled within his chest and his throat.

"Something that rests beneath... something that I don't understand... I- I..."  
  
The colonel dropped down to one knee and without hesitation, the twelve year old ran into his arms and buried his face into the fabric of his blue coat, which he clung onto with his automail hand.  
  
Roy put his chin atop Ed's head of soft blond hair and rubbed his back soothingly in circles. Roy hushed the boy quiet though no sound passed his lips.

"Shh... Shh..."

"It's... it's g-going to be okay... right, Roy?" Ed whispered into the fabric.

"Of course it will be," Roy whispered reassuringly.   
  
Edward stayed there in his arms for another minute or two before he pushed away slightly, using the sleeve of his red coat to wipe away the tracks of tears that stained his cheeks. He smiled slightly, silently laughing at his own childishness before he gently linked his arms around Roy's neck, the action oddly intimate.

Hesitantly, Ed then used his automail hand to push Roy's dark bangs away from his forehead. Closing his eyes for just a moment, Ed then planted a tender kiss on Roy's head before he slowly drew away, letting out a soft, shaky breath.

Golden eyes lowered to Roy's slightly parted lips.  
  
Ed's face was only inches away from Roy, yet Roy could feel a rush of heat radiating from his chest and spreading to the rest of his body. Roy's heartbeat speed up in his chest, leaving him breathless, and all of this with Ed simply gazing down at his lips.  
  
The heat was replaced by an ache and a need as Edward suddenly drew back and tilted his head slightly to the side. Unblinking eyes searched Roy's as upon lips formed a thoughtful frown.  
  
"You... you love me for me... right?" Edward asked in a soft, but hoarse voice. "You love me for not just what I am, or how I look, but for who I am too... isn't that right? You care about me?"  
  
A small, sweet smile spread across Roy's lips. It was something that Roy's subordinates rarely saw, but for Edward, it was nothing new.  
  
"You say the silliest things sometimes," Roy said, tilting his head, slightly to the side. "What do you think?"  
  
A smile tugged at the corners of Edward's lips.  
  
 _Of course._  
  
Roy put a thumb beneath Edward's chin and guided his head forward. Tilting his head slightly, Roy went in to kiss Ed.

But he stopped.

He had kissed Edward at least a hundred times before. His hesitation wasn't a matter of it being the first time. Roy had gone still, almost as if he were teasing, but the truth of it was that he felt something within Edward change before Edward even realized it himself.

Mouth fell slightly open, and golden eyes stared over Roy's shoulder, meeting red eyes glowing slightly in the darkness of armor like embers, gaze both dead and alive at the same time.

Sick? Numb? Edward wasn't quite sure which emotion brought about the dread which fell into his stomach. Trembling, mismatched hands slowly caressed Roy's back, drawing the man closer to him as one would both a shield and an object of comfort.

"Al's watching..." Edward breathed into Roy's shoulder, his voice as quiet as he could manage.

And with those words, a cold wind swept through the room, slamming the doors of the office close, the sound as sharp as the crack of a bullet. 

 

 


	5. [ Paranoia ]

Edward ducked behind a shadowy street corner, and with teeth bared, he snapped off the safety on Hawkeye's handgun. As he closed his eyes and concentrated on keeping his heavy breath quiet, he reflected on the events which occurred two days before. The memory came back forcefully, ramming into him and sending him bolting upright on the couch in the Hughes family's living room.  
  
The blanket which had been laid atop his legs slid off, pooling onto the floor beside the worn couch. Ed looked around the room lit by the early afternoon sun, and panting heavily, he slowly remembered where he was and why he was there.

Since he had insisted on staying in Central, Hughes had insisted that he and Alphonse stay at his family's apartment for the time being. Right now, he heard Alphonse and Elicia playing outside on the front lawn and the sound of their giddy laughter drifted in through the open window.  
  
If it was afternoon already, Ed must have slept in, and someone must have let him do so.  
  
Ed's eyes finally fell upon Gracia who sat on the sofa across from him with a book on her lap and concerned look on her face.  
  
"Bad dream?" she asked worriedly.  
  
Edward let out a soft, shaky breath before he looked down and clutched the cast around his broken wrist with his automail hand.  
  
"Yeah," he admitted.  
  
Gracia's eyes softened. "Would you like to talk about it?"  
  
Ed said nothing.  
  
"It's alright if you don't want to," she said sweetly. "Just know that if you need someone to talk to... I'll always be here."  
  
Edward silently blinked his eyes and looked over at her. "No... I do want to talk about it," he said calmly.  
  
Gracia nodded her head, encouraging Ed to speak.  
  
"I had a dream where I… I was laying on a metal table,” Edward explained in a quiet voice. Looking into the empty air before him, his golden eyes narrowed with thought, “And it was cold, very cold, and there was this voice… this voice that spoke to me in the dark…”

_Ed's voice caught in his throat as he suddenly felt the familiar caress of sharpened steel, slowly tracing a path from his bare stomach, and over the plane of his chest, before it came to rest on the fragile skin at the base of his neck._

_“_ I think it was the guy who went after Elizabeth Henbrook and that second girl, Daria Poer. After he did… after he did what he did to me, he slit open Daria Poer’s throat and cut open her stomach, just like he did with the first girl left hanging under the bridge. And I was staring the killer down, but he had no face. And I didn't do anything to stop him because my legs wouldn't move. Then, all of a sudden, it was morning in the dream. And I went through my usual day, however, every person that I encountered was also missing a countenance. I was hell-bent on finding the murderer, I had to catch him, but in the end, I got confused, and I accused the wrong person, and... and I ended up with blood on my hands. The guilt ate at me, and my life went down the drain because of that one wrong and hastily-made decision. I..." Edward closed his eyes for a moment. "I lost my mind, Miss Gracia."  
  
Edward paused and turned his head away, lowering his eyes. "That was what I dreamt about. It was one of the more... tame dreams I've had as of late."  
  
Gracia closed the book on her lap. "The mind plays tricks on us, especially when we're afraid." she stated softly.  
  
Ed shook his head, giving her a pained smile. "No... I'm not afraid."  
  
"Well I certainly am," she said, folding her delicate hands on her lap. "And I'm sure Maes is afraid too. We're afraid for you boys, especially after what happened and what you saw."  
  
Gracia smiled reassuringly.  
  
"But you have to try not let it get the best of you. When we're scared, we see things that aren't there, and suddenly, everyone's the enemy, aren't they? That's when fear becomes something else, something called paranoia. Just... just try not to let paranoia control your actions, Edward. Continue to be you, and everything will be alright. Remember to stop and think. Use reason. Take a step back and think things through before you pull the trigger on someone. Think things through before you jump. Think things through before you make a cut. You see... the fear of losing your mind... it's not the fear of losing your mind, Edward, it's the fear of losing control. This world..." Gracia said with a sweet smile and shake of her head, "It's yours. And yours alone, so if you want to hold on tight, you hold on tight, you understand?"  
  
Before Edward could open his mouth and question what she had meant, Hughes sauntered into the room with his hands tucked into the pockets of the pants that made up his military uniform. It was time to go back to work. With a smile plastered on his face, he went up to his wife and leaned forward, planting a kiss on her forehead.  
  
"You're beautiful... you know that?" he whispered softly into her bangs. “You're my favorite.”  
  
 _"R-R-Really?" Ed had stuttered hoarsely. "I'm- I'm y-y-y-your fav-or- favorite?"_  
  
"Here, Edward," Riza Hawkeye said, holding an unloaded gun out to Edward. "I want you to take this."  
  
Yesterday, Hawkeye had approached Ed and Al in the hallway, just after they had left the colonel's office and closed the door behind them.  
  
Upon spotting the gun, Alphonse took a half step back. "That's...that's a weapon..." he said breathlessly, "A weapon for killing people..."  
  
"Yes," Riza said calmly, "but it can also be used to protect your lives. You'd can't perform alchemy without a circle, can you, Edward? Not with that broken wrist." She held the gun out to him again. "Take it," she said in a firmer tone. "You do know how to use it, don't you?"  
  
"Yes. I do."  
  
...and now tonight.  
  
Edward pressed his back against the damp brick wall of a building. The sound of police officers shouting to one another could be heard off in the distance, the sound of their voices bouncing off of the buildings and cutting through the crisp night air. The man in black had been spotted once again, this time with a body bag in tow. The other officers were looking for him about seven or eight blocks away, but Edward had him in his sights.  
  
Holding his breath in his chest, Ed could hear the man's footfall coming closer and closer, slowly and steadily.  
  
The man in black was being cautious, but obviously not cautious enough if he could be heard over the booming sound of Ed's heart beating hard in his chest.  
  
The man in black took one step. Then another. And another.  
  
Ed's hands began to shake as dread began to sink into his stomach like the cold wetness from the rain that had soaked into the back of his coat from the brick wall. Ed looked around the corner.  
  
"One..." Ed whispered breathlessly.  
  
Step...  
  
"Two..."  
  
Step...  
  
Ed let out a quiet breath and saw it curling and twisting in the air before him.  
  
"...three."  
  
Edward quickly stepped out from his hiding place and the bloodcurdling scream that had come from the deceased Elizabeth Henbrook's mouth pierced through Ed's memory, blocking out the sound of the bullet breaking the air as his automail finger squeezed the trigger, the recoil sending a shiver through his entire body.  
  
The man in black's body jolted back suddenly as if shocked by electricity, but to Edward's surprise, he continued to stand upright. Through the slit in his ski mask, the man in black's eyes widened.  
  
Ed's own eyes widened with horror as he watched a dampness slowly spread across the front of the man in black's shirt.  
  
...had he done it?  
  
Did he just do what he thought he had done?  
  
The soft sound of the man in black's muffled voice brought Ed back to reality.  
  
"Hey..."  
  
Upon hearing those words, Ed's blood ran cold. A wave of nausea made his stomach do a back-flip. He was going to be sick. Oh yes, he was definitely going to be sick; he could feel the bile burn his throat on the way up from his stomach.  
  
The man in black's glassy blue eyes softened. "Hey, Kid..."  
  
To Ed's surprise, the man reached up a trembling hand and slowly began to peel off his ski mask, bringing the black fabric up over his head. His hand fell to his side and the mask fell to the ground without a sound. Ed saw his body wavered slightly as he let out a short, labored breath.  
  
A small sleepy smile spread across the man in black's face as he looked at Ed with unfocused eyes.  
  
"We've...ah-ha...ha...w-we've...we've gotta stop meeting...outside of work like this..." Jean Havoc said.  
  
His smile fell.  
  
He swayed once more before his blue eyes rolled to the back of his head. And Edward rushed forward and linked his arms under that of the taller man, catching him before he fell. He shakily lowered Havoc down to the ground, leaning his back up against the cool brick wall behind him.  
  
In a daze, Edward went down on his knees before Havoc. The sinner was prepared to do penance, and his fingers trembled against his thighs as he looked on at the priest with wide eyes and a trembling lower lip, hanging onto the words that had yet to come from the priest's mouth.  
  
Havoc let out a shallow breath and a ragged cough escaped from his lips.  
  
In a panic, Edward looked down at the dampness spreading across Havoc's chest and he lurched forward, pressing a hand against the spot that was warm and slick in an attempt to stop the flow. Ed felt a weak heartbeat there as blood ran between his fingers.  
  
It was Ed's, not Havoc's face, that then twisted with agony, his shoulders falling forward.  
  
"I don't understand..." the twelve year old whimpered softly, shaking his head. "I don't understand- what were you doing? What were you here?!"  
  
Havoc looked back at him with a glassy and almost pleading look in his light colored eyes. He tightened his grasp on the handgun he still held.  
  
It was comforting to him.  
  
Edward turned his head as he heard the familiar sound of hollow armor falling hard and clanking against pavement.  
  
"Brother!" Al shouted.  
  
When the scene before him came into focus, he stopped in his tracks. If he had lungs with which to breathe, he would have taken a sharp intake of breath and his eyes would have widened at the sight of Havoc slumped against the wall.  
  
"Alphonse!" Ed cried his voice breaking. He bit his lower lip, trying to gain control over his emotions before speaking again. "Go get help..." he breathed.  
  
Without a word, Alphonse turned around ran off. Off in the distance, Ed heard a police officer shout.  
  
Havoc put a hand over Ed's. Ed could feel his hand trembling over his and when he looked up at Havoc's face, he saw that his head was drooping slightly to the side.  
  
"Havoc?! Havoc, come on, Havoc, look at me!" Ed sobbed, pressing his hand harder against the hole in Havoc's chest. "People will be here to help in just a few seconds, it's going to be alright, alright?!"  
  
Havoc sluggishly looked to the side with half lidded eyes. "Alright, you say...well..."  
  
"What were you doing here?!" Ed cried again.  
  
Havoc shook his head slightly. "I didn't...I didn't kill Elizabeth; I simply...put her there… like he asked me to… if that helps..."  
  
A calmness suddenly washed over Havoc- over his face and over his entire body. Havoc paused and blinked once as the footfall of police officers was heard only yards away. He tilted his head to one side, and for what seemed like an eternity, Havoc carefully studied Edward's face before the spell broke and his calm face twisted with pain again.  
  
"I'm sorry, kid," he said softly, biting his lip and shaking his head. "It's...it's been a good run..." He nodded his head to the side and smiled slightly. "For the most part."  
  
Edward's eyes widened as he saw Havoc swiftly lift the hand that was still holding tightly to the gun.  
  
 _"HAVOC, NO!"_  
  
The crack of the gunshot ripped through the air and echoed through the streets, and the sound was followed by a silence so quiet it could drive a man mad. Ed sat stunned as a body collapsed onto the ground with a sickening thud. He had forgotten how to breathe and he was left frozen, struggling to register what had just happened.  
  
What was that loud noise? Where had it come from? What was this warm liquid speckling his cheeks, and his forehead...and his lips?  
  
Edward didn't react when someone put their hands on his shoulder and shook his violently, calling his name.  
  
Blood. It was blood.  
  
But whose blood? Was it his? And down there? Who was the blonde-haired man laying at his feet? And why wasn't he moving?  
  
A large hand was placed on Edward's shoulder and Ed found himself being wrenched back.  
  
"MAJOR ELRIC! Are you hurt?!" the officer cried, putting his hands on his shoulders.  
  
"Get him out of here!" a female officer cried.  
  
Ed felt himself being guided up to his feet and his eyes fell upon Havoc once more, he snapped.  
  
Blood flowed out from between Havoc's lips and out of his nose. More blood flowed out of the dark hole that was in the right side of his head and covered the right side of his face. It ran past his eyelids and eyelashes and flowed into his open blue eyes.  
  
"NO!" Ed shouted sharply wrenching his wrists away from the hands that grabbed them. "NO! NO, LET ME GO!" he cried frantically, struggling against the officers who tried to hold him back, keeping from rushing to Havoc's side.  
  
Ed's automail elbow flew and connected hard with an officer's nose.  
  
"Fuck!"  
  
"LET ME GO!" Ed sobbed, his knees going weak. "OH GOD, LET ME GO!"  
  
"We need you to calm down, Major!" a female officer said, wrapping her arms around his chest and pulling the kicking and screaming boy close as an anguished wail erupted from his mouth, making her blood run cold as he clawed at her arms.  
  
Edward's face, speckled red with Havoc's blood and brain matter suddenly grew calm, and his golden eyes rolled back as he took a blow to the head which sent him spiraling into darkness.  
  
  



	6. [ Beauty ]

It was dark, just as it always is when someone looks at the backs of their eyelids. The atmosphere around him was peaceful, and he felt like he was suspended in the air.

Exposed, but safe.

His lungs ached. They were hungry for air, but he ignored the feeling until his chest began to burn with need. Edward gasped deeply and water took that as an invitation to rush into his throat as bubbles rushed to breach the surface of the water. Shutting his eyes, he quickly sat up in the tub, churning the water around him as he hacked and coughed up water harshly. Still coughing, his chest hurting from the strain, Edward pulled out the plug and climbed out of the bath tub, sending water splashing to the ice cold tile floor. He grabbed a towel and dried his long golden hair before hurriedly drying off the rest of his body as he continued to cough softly.

All the while, he struggled to remember what had come over him to make him slip beneath the surface of the bathwater. Whether the act was intentional or unintentional... he didn't quite know. He didn't quite know many things these days- maybe that was the loss of control. The loss of control that Miss Gracia had talked about before.

"Are you alright Fullmetal?" a familiar baritone voice called from the other room. "You know, next time you should fill the water in the tub a little bit lower. That way you won't be at risk of drowning."

"Oh, shut up..." Ed grumbled, wrapping the towel around the waist.

With that, Ed opened the bathroom door and stepped into Mustang's bedroom to which the bathroom was connected. The man himself lounged atop the queen sized bed wearing nothing but a pair of casual slacks that hung sluggishly just beneath his rather defined hip bones. Dark unblinking eyes fell upon Edward, staring. The face upon which the eyes were attached was vacant of readable emotion.

"Fell asleep in the tub, didn't you?" Mustang asked softly. "You have a death wish or something?"

Walking toward Mustang, Edward thought the question over in his head, wondering how much truth to say how much truth not to say. What would be appropriate. And what wouldn't.

"Comes and goes," Ed finally said, sitting down on the edge of the bed.

One corner of Roy's lips curled upward. "Hm. I understand that."

"Anyway, thank you for letting me use your bathroom."

"Anytime," Mustang replied, sitting upright. "But I thought that taking baths was bad for your automail. Messes up the wiring."

Ed narrowed his eyes. Mustang was right after all, it must have slipped his mind.

"That's right. I just had... I just a breach of judgement- I wasn't thinking."

Edward then narrowed his eyes with bewilderment as Mustang swung his legs off of the side of the bed and stood up. The man stalked around the large unmade bed like a shark at open sea, his dark eyes trained on Edward at all times as he stopped in front of him and put a hand on Edward's flesh shoulder. Mustang gently guided him downward onto the bed, and Ed complied, bringing his legs up onto the mattress as he lay on his side, his towel at his waist coming undone.

From the corner of his eye, Ed watched as Mustang placed the palm of a hand on the mattress, bent down at the waist, and planted a kiss on the scarred tissue where automail met skin. Mustang then stood straight again and hooked is thumbs into the pockets of his slacks, the spell finally broken.

Ed turned away slightly, hiding his face as a warm blush rose up in his cheeks. "I'm ugly," he whispered. "You're the only one who seems not to notice."

"Everyone else is blind," he heard Mustang say calmly from above. "I just see beauty in things that others do not." With those words, Roy paused and smiled slightly. "That sounded sort of poetic, didn't it?"

"Is that what the killer thought?" Edward asked softly. He was rather surprised by how quickly those words came out. By how little thought had to be put into them.

"What do you mean?" Mustang questioned.

"Did the killer go through great lengths to put the first girl's body on display like that... because he saw beauty in things that others do not?"

"I'm not a mind reader... but perhaps. It's a compelling thought."

Edward let out a shallow, ragged breath, burying his face into the bed sheets as Mustang pulled his towel away and tossed it to the side. He heard the springs of the mattress that he was laying on squeak slightly as Mustang shifted his weight onto it.

"Oh, it's my fault," Ed whimpered softly. "You and Havoc were close and I killed him, it's all my fault..."

"It isn't your fault. It isn't your fault at all- you didn't know. And besides... Havoc wasn't completely innocent."

Edward gulped back a lump he held in his throat. He wet his lips. "I can't live like this," he whispered as he felt the mattress shift again. "I feel like I'm going crazy..."

"Turn onto your stomach," Mustang said gently. "You don't have to look if you don't want to."

Without a word, Edward disobeyed the colonel's order and slowly turned from his side onto his back, making his sun-kissed body vulnerable and completely exposed. His eyes shifted from the side and looked upward as the surface of the mattress depressed and Mustang put his hands against the mattress on either side of his neck. Ed's breath caught in his aching chest and his heart raced with anticipation, making him ever so slightly dizzy as Mustang's toned chest and stomach loomed up over him.

"Whatever will I do with you?" Mustang sung quietly, looking down at Edward with unblinking onyx eyes. He lowered himself down slightly so he could whisper in Ed's ear, his warm, moist breath tickling Edward's earlobe. "What do you think I'll do to you? Hm, Fullmetal?"

Edward said nothing. He chewed on his lower lip and glanced over to the side for just a moment. He both hated and loved the way that Mustang made him feel.

He made his heart swell and flutter. He made him feel slightly ashamed. He made him want to crawl in a hole and die. He made him feel safe. He made him feel unsure of himself. He made him feel secure.

"What do you think?" Mustang asked, leaning closer. "What do you think I'll do to you, Fullmetal?"

Edward was still quiet. He closed his eyes and he took in a shallow breath, humming slightly as Mustang gently touched the tip of his tongue to his lower lip, leaving a moisture there before he ghosted his lips upward and touched his the tip of his tongue to Edward's upper lip.

A second- an eternity- passed before Mustang captured Edward's lips with his.

 

_Make it better, Roy._

_I'm scared. Make me forget._

_Please, Roy. Make it better._

 

The next morning, Edward returned to the dorm in which he and Alphonse lived. Standing in front of a mirror in one of the completely empty communal bathrooms, he pulled down the collar of his shirt slightly and subconsciously winced upon catching sight of his skin which was mottled with bruises that were black and shades of deep dark purple. Ed gingerly ran the pads of his fingers over his skin and took a sharp intake of breath as he touched a bruise a bit too hard. He paused, and looking in the mirror at his disheveled hair, his slightly sunken cheeks, and the dark circles beneath his eyes that looked like bruises themselves, he leaned forward, bringing his face closer to the glass.

His reflection blinked his wild golden eyes. And then it smiled a wide, mischievous smile before giggling slightly, the sound bouncing off of the walls of the empty room.

Loss of control.

"Do you see beauty in things that others do not?" Edward's reflection whispered excitedly.

"Yes!" Ed replied with a grin, "I see beauty in things that others do not!"

Biting his lower lip, he looked left and then right, making sure that no one was around before he turned back to the mirror with a playful twinkle in his eyes. Still with a grin on his face, he put a finger to his lips.

"Shh!" his reflection hushed. "It'll be our little secret! And it'll be our little secret for as long as you want! This world..." The reflection paused and looked back and forth again to make sure that no one was listening in. "This world is yours! And yours alone! So if you want to hold on tight, you hold on tight, you understand?"


	7. [ That Special Place ]

Edward was in that special place. That special place where he could be alone.

Well... not alone exactly.

He was simply away. Away from Winry and Granny Pinako and Hawkeye and Hughes and Mustang, and anyone and everyone who could possibly make judgement upon him.

Edward had run away and he taken someone along for the trip.

That someone was a horrible companion. He never had a smile on his face. He only cried and begged and sobbed and screamed, oh damn all that was holy, that child could scream. He screamed until he couldn't scream anymore. Imagine that- having a friend who screamed with terror every time you entered the room.

Edward solved this problem by taking the next logical step. He tied his companion to a chair, put a blindfold over his eyes, and cut his tongue out with a pocket knife.

He now put a hand on the boy's shoulder and leaned forward, taking a deep breath of the scent on the pale skin of his neck as he let his mouth and warm breath hover over his ear.

"Whatever will I do with you?" Edward whispered, his voice deepening ever so slightly so it was almost sultry and smooth like honey. It was a strange sound coming out of a twelve year old's mouth. "What do you think I'll do to you? Hm?"

The younger boy said nothing.

"What do you think?" Edward asked again, drawing away slightly.

He inhaled deeply, almost emitting a soft moan as his lips ghosted over the skin of the boy's sweet, soft neck, and he parted his chapped lips and opened his mouth slightly so he could tug and nibble on the boy's ear lobe.

The action only lasted a moment and it was soft, gentle, and nothing extravagant, but it sent a wave of pleasure coursing through Edward's body.

He hovered his lips over the unresponsive boy's ear again. "What do you think I'll do to you... Alphonse?"

The sight was enough to make someone gag.

Kind Alphonse, thoughtful Alphonse, selfless Alphonse, sensitive Alphonse, poor sweet Alphonse sitting with his wrists bound to the arms of a chair, the pale, perfect wrists of his recently reclaimed body chaffed and cut and scratched so it was now an angry red, tinged with an infected and diseased green and pale yellow. His head was tilted back, and that quickened his death. He had choked on his own blood and with his tongue-less mouth wide open, frozen in a scream, the thick crimson substance had poured over his lips and down his chin and had cascaded over the front of his torn shirt like a waterfall, collecting in a spray in his lap.

The smell of death hung heavy in the air, yet Edward calmly straightened, clasped his hands behind his back, and began to slowly pace in a circle around the chair, his footfall echoing through the dark, empty subterranean room.

"What...what went wrong, Alphonse? We don't talk as much as we used to. We need to establish some sort of communication between the two of us. I need you to be just a little bit more vocal. Can you do that for me, Al? Can you...can you be a bit more vocal? You have a wonderful voice."

Edward stopped in front of Alphonse and slowly doubled over at the waist, placing his hands atop Al's bound and bloody wrists. Ed studied his brother's face, and in a few seconds, his face twisted with emotion- sorrow and anger and regret all rolled into one as he shoved the chair back with all of his might, his voice breaking.

"DAMMIT, AL! TALK TO ME!!!"

 

"...talk to me," Edward whispered opening his eyes.

He pulled the bed covers higher over his body as he let out a soft, shaky breath. Without a sound, his fingers then crawled across the mattress and they took hold of a large, but soft hand.

Mustang glanced over at Ed who lay beside him. It was the second night in a row that the boy had stayed over.

"My fingers are cold," Ed lied, diverting his eyes.

Mustang said nothing and simply smirked knowingly.

"I had a nightmare," Ed stated suddenly. "And it was sick. It was so sick and so...twisted, but it felt so real. Roy... am I losing my mind?"

Mustang's smile fell upon hearing the tone of his young lover's voice. He shook his head. "No. You aren't losing your mind."

Edward turned his head on the pillow. "How do you know?" he asked.

Roy turned onto his side and propped himself up on one elbow. "I've been on the battlefield before, remember? I know what losing your mind looks like, and it's not happening to you right now. You have nothing to worry about in that area."

"Is there something wrong with me? What if... what is this case isn't real? It can't be real; what if it isn't real, like my dream, and Havoc isn't dead, and neither are the two girls?!"

"It's real," Mustang stated calmly, his brow furrowing with sympathy. He squeezed Edward's hand. "I hate seeing you upset like this, but that's the truth. It's real."

"But how do you know?!" Ed cried.

Mustang fell silent. He wet his lips before speaking.

"The answer is simple," he said. "Evidence."

Meanwhile, a second lieutenant tossed a large white envelope onto Maes Hughes's desk, and it made a soft slap as it hit the clean mahogany surface. Hughes put his elbows up on the desk and knitted his hands together, leaning forward in his chair and resting his chin on top of them. He quietly listened to what his subordinate had to say.

"Jean's girlfriend, Riza Hawkeye, stated that he was acting strangely in the weeks before- smoking more, drinking more, sleeping less- the things expected when you're working with a murderer. Anyway, the family has been informed of his death. We found out that his mother was very sick and he was probably making extra money to help pay her medical bills. Miss Hawkeye didn't know. We checked and we found out that he made two deposits of a hundred thousand cenz into his bank account. Not a huge amount, but nothing to sneeze at either. But then things get interesting."

"Shoot," Hughes said, crossing his arms.

"Okay, well it's not very interesting, but it's juicy. A certain someone in the military took out money. They went to the bank four times recently, and there's no correlation between the times, but the amount of money matches up. Two hundred thousand cenz. And because of the professional and personal proximity between Jean Havoc and Roy Mustang, we can only assume that Mustang was the one giving him the money. And even better... we asked around. And no one knows where the Mustang was on the night of Daria Poer's death."

Hughes narrowed his eyes and shook his head. "Roy Mustang couldn't have done this; this has to be a mistake..."

"But we still need to look into it and take him in for questioning."

Hughes sat back in his seat and chewed the corner of his bottom lip thoughtfully. "Won't get very far, but yes, we do."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Remember in the chapter [recognition]...  
> "Can't talk?!" Ed asked loudly. "Somebody cut out your tongue?!"


	8. [ Six Words ]

One sentence. Six words.

That's all it takes to turn someone's life upside down.

It was getting later into the evening and the world stood still in that moment right before the sun sinks the small distance it needs to be hidden behind the horizon. Mustang was alone in his office with Edward and Alphonse, explaining the details of their latest assignment that would send them to Dublith in southern Amestris.

Mustang would later be grateful that there happened to be only the three of them in the room at the time.

All three individuals turned their head as the door to the office slowly creaked open. With head held high, a familiar bespectacled family-man with a chinstrap beard stepped inside the room. Contrary to his usual demeanor, he neither gave them a greeting, nor did he show them pictures of the wife and child he held in such high esteem.

The passive and almost icy expression on his face blatantly showed that he was there on business, rather than to catch up with friends. Hughes silently pressed his lips together, clasped his hands behind his back, and turned his head so he could look over his shoulder.

Mustang's eyes narrowed and he stood up from his seat behind his desk as two other officers- one tall and burly and one short and wiry- followed after his friend.

"Hughes, what's going on?" Mustang asked, looking from the officers, to Hughes, and back to the officers again.

Hughes' hazel eyes flicked over to him. "Hope we aren't disturbing anything important, Colonel," he said coolly, "We need a few moments of your time. Are you willing to answer our questions here and in the present moment, or would you like to speak to us in private?"

Ed and Al exchanged questioning glances. What was Hughes insinuating? Was he going to be interrogating Mustang?!

"It depends on what the questions are," Mustang replied in a calm voice.

The taller, middle aged officer standing behind Hughes stepped forward. "Do you remember the night of Daria Poer's death?" he asked Mustang in a clear voice.

Mustang blinked his eyes and his countenance softened. "Yes," he said quietly. "I read about it in the paper the day afterward."

"Autopsy shows that she was killed at about eleven o'clock. Remember where you were then?"

"On a Thursday night, I was most likely at home," Roy stated honestly. "Yes, if I remember correctly, I was home alone."

"And does it ring true that you took two hundred thousand cenz out of your bank account recently, perhaps in the last month or two?"

"Yes, that's true."

"And you didn't use it toward paying bills and you didn't make any big purchases?"

"That's correct."

"Well where did the money go, Colonel Mustang?"

"Jean Havoc's mother was ill. I was loaning it to him to help his mother who was in he hospital at the time."

Edward visibly stiffened at the mentioning of Havoc's name. The wound was still fresh.

"Seems like an awful lot to give, don't you think?" the other thinner officer questioned.

"He was my subordinate, but we were good friends," Mustang explained. "We've been working together for the past few years and I knew that I could trust him to pay me the money back when he was able to."

Hughes let out a short breath before speaking. The ran a hand over his hair and then let it rest at the back of his neck. "I know that's true, but we still need you to come in for questioning, Colonel. We should speak to you in private."

Edward and Alphonse watched as Mustang nodded his head slightly before turning his attention to them. "We'll continue our conversation later, boys."

Mustang stepped around his desk and crossed the room. The taller officer stepped forward, and taking hold of his upper arm, he led Mustang toward the door.

"Where are you taking him?" Edward called in a concerned voice.

The officers ignored him.

Edward felt his chest tighten and his throat constrict. Fear- that's what it was. The lack of air made his head and his thoughts spin as a familiar scene played out before him. Alphonse was standing beside him like that time many years before, and like their father, Mustang's hulking frame filled the expanse of the open doorway.

Staring at Mustang's back, Edward took a step forward.

"Roy, don't go!" he cried pleadingly. He knew it was childish; he knew that it made him seem needy, but he needed him; he needed Mustang. "Please, please, Roy! Please don't leave me alone!"

Hughes turned and blinked, looking at Edward with genuine surprise, caught off guard by the frantic tone of Edward's voice and the use of Mustang's first name.

"I'll be back before you know it," Roy said calmly over his shoulder.

To everyone's surprise, looking like he was in the brink of tears, Edward rushed forward and caught the fabric of Mustang's blue jacket in one hand, basically throwing himself upon the older man. "Please don't leave me!" he sobbed.

Mustang tugged himself free. "I'll be right back, Fullmetal," he said firmly.

Edward watched as officer rushed Mustang through the doorway, increasing the space between them.

"Wait!" Edward suddenly shouted. Everyone paused. "Wait, Mustang was lying!"

All eyes were upon Edward now. Roy looked at Ed with a pleading look in his dark eyes, silently begging him not to continue. But he did.

"I..."

Edward paused and but his lower lip before continuing to speak.

"...I was with Roy all night."

There it was. Six words.

The room went silent. The color drained from Mustang's face.

Hughes gradually narrowed with confusion. "Edward...are you saying what I...what I think you're saying?"

"Roy and I are lovers," Edward said, "And...and I was with him all night. He didn't do it."

Hughes went pale. He shook his head. "No...that can't-"

"We play a game together," Ed interrupted. "The colonel tells me to rewrite the reports I turn in. And when he hands them back to me; he puts square brackets around certain numbers and certain words- it's a message. On the night of Daria's death, he sent me a message telling me to meet him at his home at nine. I snuck out of your house while you and the rest of your family were asleep. The victim...Daria...was killed at around eleven, but Roy was with me. I was at Roy's house and Hawkeye telephoned Roy about Daria's death and...and the fact that the man in black was spotted, and I left to check out the situation. After that, I told Al that I was taking a walk and clearing my head, but I came back to Roy's house. I was with him the rest of the night. I joined Alphonse again in the morning."

When Edward finished, a silence hung pregnant in the air. Hughes was the first to speak.

"Lieutenant Mavis, Lieutenant Austin...leave us."

Neither officer moved.

"That's an order," Hughes said. "Leave. Get the car ready- I'll be out in a few."

The two officers hurriedly left the room, leaving behind Hughes, Mustang, Ed, and Al.

Hughes stared wide-eyed at Edward. "What...what did he do to you, Ed?" he whispered.

Edward narrowed his eyes. "Excuse me?" he said breathlessly.

"Did...did he touch you?" he asked shakily.

Ed said nothing.

"Has he ever hurt you; has he ever had sexual relations with you, Edward?"

Edward opened his mouth, but he paused and closed it again.

Alphonse turned to his brother with alarm, waiting for the words, "No, of course not", but they never came. He didn't say a word, but Hughes knew the answer.

Hughes' stomach did a somersault. He felt sick, oh god, he felt so sick, he could feel nausea and heat rising up inside of him until he snapped like the Flame Alchemist's fingers, roughly turning Mustang around so his front was pinned against the doorframe. Hughes wrenched Mustang's wrists back and reached for his handcuffs.

"Colonel Roy Mustang, you're under arrest under suspicion of aiding and abetting murder and committing statutory rape," Hughes announced loudly as he out on the handcuffs. "You have the right to remain silent and refuse to answer questions. Anything you say may be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to consult an attorney before speaking to the police and to have an attorney present during questioning now or in the future. If you cannot afford an attorney, one will be appointed for you before any questioning if you fucking wish! Do you understand each of these rights I have explained to you?!"

"Maes-"

"Don't you dare call me that! Just answer the question! DO YOU UNDERSTAND?!"

"I understand," Roy said calmly.

"Having these rights in mind, do you wish to talk to us now?!"

Mustang turned his head slightly and looked at Edward and the suit of armor standing a few feet away from him.

"No," he said.

The next week went like a blur.

Mustang was locked up.

Hughes was quiet.

Alphonse was quiet.

Edward underwent a thorough medical examination, followed by questions- so many questions. Questions about he and Roy. What Roy had done to him behind closed doors. How he'd hurt him. Questions about the bruises on his upper leg and stomach and his neck. How long they had been in a relationship. How and where he had been touched.

Edward now lay on his side in bed in the guest room in the Hughes family's home. Alphonse sat in a chair in the corner while his elder brother lay still with his long blond hair loose and splayed out upon the mattress. He had his arms out in front of him- his body felt heavy, somehow increasing in weight as emptiness and guilt slowly ate away at him, savoring the flavor.

His eyes widened as Alphonse suddenly spoke.

"How can you love him, Brother?"

Edward let out a quiet breath. "You disapprove of our relationship," he inferred. "You disprove of our relationship because he's a man."

"Yes," Alphonse replied in a calm, even voice. "Exactly."

Edward turned his head so that he could avoid Alphonse's gaze. "I didn't think you were that sort of person," he whispered. "I thought better of you."

"I'm not homophobic, Ed, you should know that. I disapprove of it because he's a grown man, and you're not a man, Ed, you're twelve years old. You're a boy, just like me."

"I became an adult the moment I became a State Alchemist," Ed replied. "I'm not a child anymore."

"Then prove it," Alphonse retorted. "Show me."

Edward lifted his head slightly and looked over his shoulder. "How do you want me to do that?"

"What do you know?"

Edward shook his head slightly. "It'll take me eons to tell you all of the things that I know."

"What do you know about love?" Alphonse clarified. "Are you old enough to know what love is?"

Edward was quiet, but it was a different sort of quiet- the one that makes your blood run cold. He was alert. His eyes widened and Alphonse could tell that his attention had suddenly been drawn elsewhere.

"What is it, Brother?" Alphonse whispered.

"I...I heard someone downstairs. I heard the front door open."

With that, Edward sat up and silently got out of bed. As quietly as he could, he tiptoed down the dark hall with Alphonse following silently behind him like a shadow. The two of them stopped in the open doorway of Elicia's bedroom and saw the small mound beneath the pink quilt rise and fall slightly. After that, they moved to the next room over. The door was closed, and Edward slowly turned the doorknob and swung the door open. The soft yellow light from the hallway spilled into the room and illuminated the sleeping forms of Mr. and Mrs. Hughes.

"Everyone's in bed," Edward stated quietly, looking up at Alphonse.

Their eyes turned to the stairs and a quiet groan was heard as the floorboards flexed underfoot.


	9. [ Old Enough ]

"Go back in and wake up Hughes," Edward whispered. "Tell him to take Gracia and Elicia and go down the fire escape. Get them out of here."

Alphonse nodded his armor head and obediently did as he was told. He disappeared through Mr. and Mrs. Hughes' bedroom door. Meanwhile, Edward carefully picked his way down the wooden staircase, trying his best to avoid places that he knew would creak loudly when weight was applied upon them. His heart pounded, but he tried to keep his breathing as quiet as possible as he made his descent, ghosting his fingers over the railing. When he made it to the bottom of the steps and he entered the dark kitchen, he reached for the lightswitch on the wall and flipped it upward.

Click!

Edward narrowed his eyes when the light didn't turn on. He flipped the switch up and down twice and he still had the same sorry result. Edward let out a soundless breath and quickly went to the kitchen counter. He pulled open one of the drawers underneath it in one fluid motion and he took out a kitchen knife which he expertly twirled around in his fingers once.

He still had his cast on and he still couldn't perform alchemy. He was at a disadvantage and he knew it.

He tightened his grasp on the handle of the knife and his heart skipped a beat as he heard something move in the living room. He blinked and his eyes shifted to the open doorway, searching for shadows which weren't actually shadows at all.

"There's no need to hide..." Edward sung, staring into the darkness and slowly taking a single step forward. "I know you're there..."

Edward received no answer and he cautiously began to walk toward the living room, holding the knife in front of him.

"You're after me?!" Ed called. "Well come and get me! But what I don't understand is why you didn't take what you wanted earlier. Were you waiting for something? Or perhaps you were too chicken to come after me."

A small smirk appeared on Edward's face. "Cluck...cluck!" he sung softly, nodding his head from side to side. "Come on. Are you a chicken? Are you a chicken?!" he whispered.

Edward lowered his chin and his voice went nice and low and cool like the night air around him. "Because I'm done with your fucking games," he said smoothly, "And I'm gonna wring your fucking neck."

Edward quickly stepped into the doorway and flipped on the light.

His shoulders fell. No one was there.

"Ed, behind you!" Alphonse shouted from the stairs.

It was too late. Edward didn't have time to turn around before something jabbed him in the neck, causing his head to snap backward with the electrifying shock of it all. It was a horrible feeling- he could feel the needle push its way through his tender skin and he could feel it pinch as it traveled through his muscle. Edward was afraid that it would go all the way through his neck- the was needle was so long. And just as Ed registered exactly what was happening, the needle of the syringe was violently pulled out.

Like a marionette with its strings cut, Edward's legs gave way beneath him and he fell hard to the floor. Alphonse hopped down over the railing of the stairs and ran to his brother. Not a moment after Edward fell, Alphonse threw a punch at the head of the man dressed in black who had just attacked Ed with a syringe.

The man in black stumbled back, dropping the empty syringe and letting it clatter upon the floor.

Meanwhile, Edward couldn't move. His limbs were heavy and that all he could do was lay there and watch as his brother tried to kick and throw punches at the man in black, but he missed every time. The man was quick, but he never retaliated the attempted blows, as if he knew that doing so would be fruitless.

Edward's entire body trembled as if he had been left out in the cold. But he wasn't cold, he was on fire. Fire burned through his veins, corroding them, eating away at them like a glutton, hungry and never satisfied. Edward somehow brought his hands to his head and he dug his fingernails deep into his scalp as his body convulsed with pain and a scream of agony violently erupted from his throat, blurring his vision.

He needed to think. He needed to get up. He needed to think about something else- anything else.

What was the answer? What do you know? Are you old enough to know what love is? What is love?

A wet, choking sound came from Edward's mouth as his fingernails broke through his skin and drew blood.

 

**Come on, Ed! What is love?!**

**Love is...love is complicated. You don't know what love is if you state otherwise. Love comes in many forms...but you can rattle off four, right?! Four isn't too much to ask for.**

**One form is agape, which means the love of God for man and of man for God. It's the love that serves regardless of changing circumstances. It means to will the good of another. It's sacrificial love for the benefit of another without expecting anything in return.**

 

Out beyond the hazy fog that he was in, Edward heard the sound of glass shattering as it fell to the floor. Alphonse let out a sharp cry before he fell to the floor also.

 

**Okay, that's good. Next. Philia. Philia is affectionate regard and friendship between equals. It's a dispassionate and virtuous love. It's loyalty to friends and community. It's platonic.**

 

Edward blinked his eyes and his vision slowly came into focus. Alphonse was down on the floor on his back, but he lifted himself up slightly and shuffled backward until his metal back came into contact with the wall.

 

**Next. Storge. Storge can be the love and affection between companions and family members. It's unconditional.**

 

The figure clothed in shadows stood before Al. Edward's eyes widened and he slowly sat himself up as he saw the mysterious figure lift their right hand, holding it there in air in front of him, pressing his thumb and middle finger together.

 

**Love...**

 

A snapping sound reverberated through the air, the echo seeping through Edward's skin and rattling his bones as orange and scarlet sparks flew, speckling the inky air with tiny masses of celestial fire which hopped and skipped with sickening delight as they lit up the room before collecting into a single form, a bolt of lightning lashing out like a viper. A pillar of fire enveloped the suit of armor that was Alphonse's vessel, wrapping it up in its terrible arms and howling with pleasure as it seared off the blood seal drawn upon it years ago. The power of the seal was collected and used to fuel the inferno that danced around Alphonse as Alphonse screamed his brother's name. Alphonse screamed and cried and screamed some more, until suddenly, he stopped, bathing the world in silence.

**...love is the culmination of everything.**

 

Suddenly a loud crack was heard, the sound of the surface of an icy lake in winter splintering. In a blink of an eye, Alphonse's chest burst open, cracking like broken glass, a spider web emanating from its center before steel splintered, flying through the air and burning red like the sparks which still danced through the air before their dark master who still stood with his hand lifted, his onyx eyes ice cold.

 

**It's what it means to be human. It's what it means to be alive.**

 

Mustang turned his back to the burning remains of what was once Alphonse Elric and he walked to Edward, his expression passive and unreadable.

Staring at his lover with desperate, pleading eyes, the red fire reflected inside of them, Edward slowly stood on shaky legs. He found himself unable to speak. He simply took a step backward as Mustang came forward, putting a hand against his neck and continuing on toward him, guiding Edward backward so that his back was greeted by the wall.

Mustang then pressed, pushing the webbed part his hand between his thumb and index finger against Edward's windpipe, cutting off air. Edward's golden eyes bulged and he began to gag, his mouth opening and closing, silently gasping like a fish out of water. He started to wheeze and he weakly clawed at Mustang's arm and hand. The world became unfocused and his lungs were set aflame.

Air.

He needed air, but none came. The tears that welled up in his eyes before were now running freely down his flushed cheeks as the world became darker and darker. Ed slowly surrendered and his body became slack.

"Shh...it's alright..." he heard Mustang hush. "It's alright; just relax. Relax, Fullmetal, I've got you..."

A thumb was gently placed underneath Ed's chin, and it guided it upward, lifting Edward's head so that Mustang could cover his lips with his own, drawing him into a tender kiss.

 

**And finally...there's eros.**

**Eros is sexual passion. It's an intimate love. Eros helps us recall knowledge of beauty, and contributes to an understanding of spiritual truth, the ideal "Form" of youthful beauty which leads us humans to feel something called erotic desire.**

**And that's it. Those are four kinds of love.**

**See that, Alphonse?**

 

I'm old enough. I'm old enough to know what love is.


	10. [ Visiting Hours ]

Ed knew that he was dreaming. He just did and he didn't even know how. But when he awoke in this dream, he knew for a fact that in reality, his eyes were still closed, though the dream was still so vivid.

And throughout this disturbing nighttime voyage, he remember that in fact, the mind does not invent faces. During dreams we only see the faces of people we've seen when we're awake, whether we remember them or not.

In Edward's dream, his golden eyes flew open, but the world around him was still laced with inky shadows. He let out a short, shaky breath and the mattress creaked beneath him as he sat up and drew back the bed covers which were warm from the heat coming off of his body, but were still as heavy as lead. The unfamiliar square room that he was in had white walls, a white ceiling, and a white linoleum floor. However, at night, the pale moonlight that seeped in through the barred window in the corner turned everything a brilliant cerulean blue, the effect similar to what happens to ice when conditions are just right.

Edward looked down at his flesh arm. His cast was off. He was wearing a short sleeved nightgown which went down to his ankles and was either light blue or white in color. In the dark, he couldn't tell.

He winced slightly as he slowly swung his legs over the edge of the bed. His lower back and legs ached, and his entire body tensed as his bare feet met the icy floor. He almost let out a quiet gasp of surprise, but the air was so still that he felt like making any sound at all was somehow against the rules of this tiny, quiet world that he was only just becoming acquainted with.

The twelve year old hesitantly walked the few steps it took to get to a small bookcase that stood in the corner. As he walked by, his fingers brushed against the spines of the dusty leather-bound volumes, and he heard his own voice echoing in his head- a voice from not too long ago.

"We're in a library," he remembered saying, pretending to be interested in the book he already held in his hands. "Look it up in an encyclopedia or something."

Ed then took an interest in the table which stood below the small window. On top of the polished oak table was a shallow basin filled with dark water that stood deathly still, it's surface as glassy as a mirror. Beside it was a small box decorated with dark flowery designs outlined in gold leaf.

Was it a jewelry box? Or perhaps a music box?

Whatever it was, it felt light in his hands. Edward examined it and turned it over, and sure enough, he found a key on its side, which he turned and felt slight resistance behind. He rotated it a couple of times and let it go, his eyes widening slightly as the lid of the box slowly opened like a flower coming into bloom and a string of light, chiming sounds chugged onward, piercing through the silence of the air, the haunting melody looping round and round as a ballerina clad in red spun on her perfectly pointed toes.

Edward hesitantly turned the music box upside down and brought it over the basin of water that stood not too far away. The dark water was disturbed ever so slightly and it rippled as it was stroked by delicate fingers on a single open hand. The fingers were as white as lilies and they curled ever so slightly like a flower too, petals crimping and folding up as the sun said its farewells. As the ballerina slowly spun around, Ed's eyes followed the fingers up to a thin, pale wrist, and from there, they traveled up a long, pale left arm, half expecting to see dark red liquid trailing down it.

"Elizabeth Henbrook..." Edward whispered.

The music box suddenly slipped from Edward's fingers and fell into the basin, sending water sloshing over the sides, falling onto the table and onto Edward's bare feet. The music continued as Edward quickly spun around and looked to the door on the wall opposite as he heard it creak open ever so slightly.

The darkness of the hallway almost seemed to waft into the white-walled room. Edward's breath was caught in his chest as he looked down and saw a child of about six or seven years old timidly peeking his head into the room. The draft that came into the room from the hall toyed with the little boy's short blonde hair, and the boy didn't blink his honey colored eyes even once as he stared at his elder brother.

Edward felt his body freeze over. He thought that he was going to be sick- he needed to sit down. He blindly reached for the back of a nearby chair and he shakily sat himself down, still staring at the ghost of his brother.

"The mind plays tricks on us, especially when we're afraid," Alphonse stated softly from the doorway. "Are you afraid, Brother? I certainly am..." he whispered, blinking and ducking further behind the door. "I'm afraid, especially after what happened and after what I saw. Things happened that shouldn't have happened between me and you and Roy. They just weren't natural. I know that now..."

Edward closed his mouth and examined the apparition standing before him, looking him up and down. It was a dream. He remembered that. But still, he decided to speak.

"What are you doing hiding behind there, Al?"

Edward then nodded his chin to the side, gesturing for Alphonse to come into the room. "Come on in."

Alphonse lowered his head and bit his lower lip as if he were nervous about something, or as if he were about to do something that was against the rules. But he eventually did as he was told and stepped out from behind the door, stepping into the room and closing the door behind him. He finally leaned his back against the wooden door and lifted his head so his eyes met that of his elder brother.

"You can't be here," Edward stated calmly.

Alphonse blinked. "Why not? You... you don't want me here?"

"You can't be here because..." Edward paused. The phrase was just too... wrong. It was something that shouldn't have been coming off of his tongue. "Because you're dead, Al, and your body is still on the other side of the gate. Or at least, that's what I assume."

Alphonse silently pushed himself off of the door and clasped his hands behind his back. He ambled his way over to his elder brother and began to pace around his chair in circles.

"Tell me," Alphonse suddenly said in a demanding voice. "Tell me what is alchemy about."

Edward was caught off guard by the change of subject and the sudden firmness in the boy's voice. His mouth went dry as Alphonse looked at him out of the corner of his eye, sending a chill down his spine.

Since Edward didn't speak, Alphonse continued to talk.

"Alchemy involves two basic things. Construction and deconstruction. Building and taking things apart." Alphonse stopped in front of Edward and cocked his head to the side. The corners of his mouth curled upward like a wound spring. "You built this world, Brother. You built it from the ground up. Now it's time to take it apart. It's time to destroy it."

The memory suddenly came flooding back to Edward, coming fast and hard like a punch to the stomach which makes you lose your breath. He remembered the fire, and the loud crack that split the air before Alphonse's metal chest burst open, sending splinters flying through the air. It was a beautiful sight. Beautiful and horrible at the same time, like the feeling that Edward had seeing his brother standing before him now.

"How come?" Edward asked, pushing the feeling aside. "Why is it time to destroy this... this world that you're talking about?"

"Because it's a puzzle. Puzzles are meant to be solved. Solutions are meant to be found. Answers bring us peace of mind." Staring into his brother's eyes, Alphonse's smile fell. "And if there's anything you need in life, it's peace of mind, Edward, especially after what you've done."

"But the puzzle has already been solved for me," Edward stated. It was true, wasn't it? "Mustang came after me. And he had an unnatural attraction to children, and he... he stated that he sees beauty in things that others do not. Mustang did it. Mustang collected and killed the children, and he paid Havoc to dispose of the bodies."

"But why would Mustang abduct the children?" Al asked bluntly.

Edward narrowed his eyes. "Because he's crazy," he replied without hesitation. "I don't think that logic has any meaning to him anymore."

"Brother, you shouldn't make assumptions like that- it isn't nice. And besides... you're all Mustang has ever wanted," Al said with a sweet smile, though a lilt in his voice gave away a certain bitterness that he held. "Why would he need anyone else? Why would he ever take anyone other than you?"

"So you don't think that Mustang did it," Edward surmised.

"No. He couldn't have done that," Alphonse stated quickly, stopping in front of Edward.

Al had a look on his face as if he couldn't quite wrap his head around Edward's doubt concerning Mustang's innocence. He was confused, and it was obviously sending him over the edge, slipping into a suppressed panic.

"He wouldn't have done that," Al said firmly and in a loud voice. "He couldn't have done that; he never would."

"He... he killed you Alphonse, he... he murdered you in cold blood."

Alphonse bit his lips and shook his head. Tears welled up in his eyes. "No, he didn't! He couldn't! He would never do that to me!"

"He's capable of anything; he can do anything that he want's to-"

"NO, HE DIDN'T!" Alphonse suddenly shouted, stomping a foot down and causing Edward to jump slightly with surprise. "HE COULDN'T HAVE; HE COULDN'T!"

A silence fell upon the room. Alphonse's glassy golden eyes and flushed face twisted with pain sent a pang of guilt through Edward. He hadn't meant to upset his younger brother. He didn't know what had caused Al to lash out like that; he didn't know what in the world could of...

And then it hit him. The truth hit Ed hard. His body tensed in his seat and then eventually relaxed as his discovery rolled off of his tongue in the form of a whisper.

"Jealousy."

Young Alphonse stiffened upon hearing the word.

"No, not jealously..." Edward continued, "You... you knew that I was in a relationship with Mustang- that's why you didn't say a single thing when Hughes was trying to take him away. That's right, isn't it? You knew exactly how I was spending my nights and yet you chose to say nothing. You envied what Mustang and I had. You asked how I could possibly love Mustang, and you were so against us being together. You... you had feelings for Mustang too, didn't you, Al?"


	11. [ Awakening ]

When Edward awoke... when he  _truly_  awoke... he was in the same room that he had dreamt about. And after about six o'clock in the morning, he had begun to hear noises outside in the hall- the click of a woman's heels against a tile floor, reminiscent of a teacher pacing up and down the aisle between classroom desks, inspecting her students' work. And then there was the squeak of the rubber soles of a man's polished leather heels following after her.  
  
There was a bit of hushed chatter.  
  
Every so often, a rumbling was heard- the rolling of the wheels of a cart, the sound occasionally accompanied by the quiet rattling of small objects contained within small glass or metal containers.  
  
There was all of this background noise, but despite it living in the recesses of understanding, it was in these sounds that the truth existed- a truth that Edward had been distanced from.  
  
Edward sat in the center of his unmade bed with an unnervingly blank and cloudy look in his eyes as the morning sun streamed in through the barred window in the corner. Mustang had entered the room a couple of minutes ago and now calmly stared out the window, but Ed didn't even notice his presence. He too lived in the background, just out of reach of his understanding, and it was hard these days… Understanding....   
  
Ed's mind was presently a jumble, and it spun as vague and hazy thoughts of things that were, that weren't, and could have been all chattered and whispered in his ears. Had Alphonse really loved Mustang? And if so, why hadn't he seen the signs? Perhaps Edward's mind was too occupied by the person that Alphonse had secretly longed for from afar...  
  
But still. Why hasn't he seen it? And why was it that Alphonse had to go?  
  
Edward jolted awake from his dazed state as Mustang snapped his fingers in front of his face in order to get his attention. The boy quickly relaxed again, his eyelids and his head drooping once more and the lifeless look contained within his eyes returned.  
  
The springs of the mattress squealed with protest as Mustang sat down next to him. Facing Ed, the older man crossed his legs one over the other and took Edward's hands in his, squeezing them slightly before he cocked his head to the side.  
  
"Oh, come on..." he sang lightly, studying Edward's face. "Talk to me, Ed... I didn't mean to be the unfortunate cause of your brother's death..."  
  
Mustang waited a beat before his nodded his head to the side and rolled his onyx eyes. "Okay, maybe I did," he said in a playful tone, "But it was only because he was saying  _'Brother! Brother! Brother!’_  all the time! It was like it was the only thing he could say. It made you seem like you were important. As you are, I may add."  
  
Mustang paused and blinked. "You'd think that you're god," he said softly. "Are you god, Ed?"  
  
When Edward didn’t answer, Mustang leaned forward and gave Ed a light kiss on his forehead. He then drew back slightly and he twisted so he could whisper in Ed's ear, voice calm, and low, and charming.

"You weren't his god... but you are  _definitely_  mine..."

God…

If there is pain, then is there God? Would God let such a thing as pain take place?

Pain… Feeling… Where were they in the numbness which had settled so heavily upon his shoulders, and yet made him lose his breath?  
  
"You're drugging me, aren't you?" Edward suddenly mumbled in a slightly slurred voice. He looked up at Mustang with unfocused eyes clouded with fever. "That's what it is, isn't it? I've been seeing things and they all seemed so real, but... but they don't make any sense. They can't make sense... can they?"  
  
"Why would I do a thing like that?" Mustang asked, feigning hurt. "Why would I drug you?"  
  
"You did all this because you're obsessed with me," Ed breathed, testing the waters. "Or because… because something happened during the war in Ishval that made you snap? Because you had a fucked up childhood?" Edward narrowed his eyes, blinking with confusion as the room spun slightly. "Because you're just crazy..." he continued, his words and thoughts trailing off.  
  
A corner of Mustang’s curled upward in amusement.

"You see, Ed... crazy is a word that you should use very... delicately. Especially in a place such as this..." he added. "You know... crazy is usually just genetics or chemical imbalances in the brain. If we're crazy, it really isn't our fault. In this case..." A smile spread across Mustang's face as he reached out a hand and tapped the tip of Ed's nose with one finger. "However, in this case, it is you who drives me mad," he sung sweetly.  
  
Mustang was greeted by silence.  
  
Edward stared straight ahead, his eyes wet and glassy as if tears were threatening to fall from them. Mustang looked at Ed with concern as Ed bit his trembling lower lip.  
  
"Oh Ed… what's wrong?" Mustang cooed.  
  
Edward let go of his lip and took in a soft, but sharp, intake of breath as his chest and shoulders spasmed slightly. "I want... I..."  
  
Ed's throat constricted and he was unable to get the words out.  
  
"What is it that you want, my love?  
  
Hot and salty tears slowly rolled down from pink, puffy eyes and caressed Edward's flushed cheeks, eventually stroking his chin and his neck. Edward's face twisted and he hung his his head in order to conceal his now glistening face.  
  
"I just wanna go home..." Ed whimpered weakly, each word pitched higher than the last.  
  
Mustang cast Ed a sympathetic look.  
  
"I wanna see Winry. And Granny Pinako. They're my home."  
  
Mustang calmly put a hand on Edward's upper leg. "I can't let you go, Edward. Someone might take you away from me and someone might take me away from you, just like Hughes almost did. And bad things might happen to you. And that's why we came here, where it's safe. Where no one can find you. Where no one can hurt you, and you can't hurt anyone else, either."  
  
"Wh-where is here?" Ed stammered.  
  
"It's where I can always be with you, and you can always be with me." A small smile touched Mustang's lips. "Isn't that nice, Edward? I think it's rather romantic."  
  
"R-Roy?"  
  
"Yes?"  
  
A hot teardrop fell onto the back of Mustang's hand and stayed there, glistening like a pearl. Mustang watched as tears began to flow freely and the twelve year old hugged his mismatched arms around his own trembling body, rocking himself slightly back and forth as a sob clawed its way out of his throat, but was stifled and cut short.  
  
"I... I-I want Al..." Ed whimpered softly. "I miss Al; give him back to me..."  
  
"Al's gone. Oh, I'm so sorry... it's all my fault..." Mustang breathed, furrowing his brow. "Do you... Could you find it in your heart to forgive me?"

Forgiveness?   
  
Ed sniffled slightly and kept his head down. He knitted his trembling fingers into his long blonde hair, letting his fingernails dig into his scalp. "Did you know that Alphonse had feelings for you?" he asked. "Is that why you decided that he had to die?"  
  
Mustang lifted a hand and gently cupped Ed's cheek. "Oh Edward… I did not decide… Ed did. But either way, it was for your own good. It was for  _our_ own good. He had to die, Ed, he had to die so we could happy together- just you and me. We're meant to be together, do you understand? That's what you want, right? For us to be together? You know, we need each other. And together, we're happy. Really happy. And that's what your brother wanted. For you to be happy... isn't that right?"  
  
Ed said nothing.  
  
"Come on, do you forgive me, Ed? Truth is, I wouldn't be able to live if you didn't."  
  
Edward lifted his head and looked at Mustang, his face twisted into the very picture of pain and loss and sorrow. A moment passed before Ed's emotions gave way and they tugged him forward, causing him to throw himself into his Mustang's open arms.  
  
Ed allowed himself to be enveloped in the man's warm embrace, to later have his tears gently kissed away from his face. To have all worry and concern and fear and sorrow whisked away in an instant, replaced by love and passion.  
  


"Of course. Of course I forgive you."

If there is pain, then is there God? Would God allow pain to exist?

“You are mine,” Edward breathed into the fabric of Roy’s hospital clothes. “You are mine…” 


	12. [ Different ]

Edward's eyes were still pink and swollen. Dried tear tracks just barely shone in the soft, white, early afternoon light that came in through the window and shone upon Edward and Roy, who both lay underneath the bed covers. Roy held a silent Edward in his strong arms and he felt the small boy's calm and steady breathing.

In. Pause. Out... In. Pause. Out...

It was soft, and pulsing, and calm. Roy made a game of trying to see if he could match its rhythm.

Edward let out a soft breath and cuddled up closer to Roy, clutching the fabric on the front of Roy's sky blue hospital scrubs with his fists. He buried his face into Mustang's chest.

Mustang shifted slightly; making himself more comfortable. The subtle action, or rather, the smell that came off of his clothes when he did so, caused Edward to wrinkle his nose.

"Your clothes... Edward mumbled into Roy's shirt. "You... You smell different..."

"Really? What's different?" Roy asked with genuine interest.

"You don't smell of cologne... and shaving cream... and wood from a lit fireplace..."

Ed loved those smells.

"...you smell slightly of cigarettes. Which is strange, because you don't smoke... do you Roy?"

Roy sat up against the pillows and Ed did so also. Roy put an arm around Ed's shoulder.

"I do once in awhile" Roy said, looking down at the boy. "When I need to relax a bit. It calms my nerves when I'm on edge. Stress. You know?"

Edward scrunched up his nose again. "Really?" he chirped, not quite believing what Roy was saying. Roy was always scolding... well he used to scold Havoc about his bad habit. It seemed strange that he would pick it up too.

Ed watched as Roy reached down into the pocket of his gown and produced a tiny silver lighter which he held in the palm of his hand. "See? I have a lighter right here if you need proof. I stash cigarettes in my room."

"Your...room?" Edward asked dumbly, tilting his head slightly to the side.

"Yeah, underneath the floorboards in the right hand corner. Help yourself," Roy said with a certain easy going lightness as he put the lighter away.

Edward narrowed his eyes. Maybe his mind hadn't cleared up as much as he thought it had. "Why would you need a lighter?" he asked.

One corner of Roy's mouth turned upward into an amused smirk. "What? You think I'm going to light a cigarette out of thin air? I know a couple of parlor tricks, but fire with the snap of your fingers isn't one of them."

Ed's eyes widened as he sent himself into a panic, half out of shock and half out of slight disappointment. "You have to be kidding, right Roy?!" Ed cried suddenly, his voice increasing in pitch with every word. His throat was still sore and scratched from crying. "You're the Flame Alchemist!"

Roy took his arm off of Ed's shoulder. "They need to up your meds, kid," he said calmly as he leaned his right cheek against Edward's soft head of golden hair. "Just go to the restroom. Wash yourself up. You'll feel better then."

Edward drew away and glanced over at the door before he looked back to Roy with a skeptical look in his eyes. "I...I can leave?"

"Of course. The doors are only locked at night. You can go in and out as you please as long as you don't cause a ruckus. Come visit me sometime; I'm in room 34A. Remember?"

Before Roy knew it, without a word of warning, Ed scrambled off of the bed and half walked, half jogged to the door.

"Ed?" Roy called after him as Ed quickly swung open the door and stepped out into the hallway. Edward didn't answer as the door closed behind him. "Hey! Heiderich!" Roy shouted sharply.

Edward quickly jumped to the side as a young woman in a nurse's uniform passed by, pushing a small metal cart in front of her which carried water held in paper cups, and the cart also held a few pill bottles, which were labeled and filled colorful pill capsules.

A sterile hospital smell filled Edward's nose as he followed the woman with his eyes as she disappeared around the corner at the end of the plain white-walled hall. Edward glanced over at the long line of frosted windows on one side of the hallway, which didn't allow anyone to look in or out. Two young men in teal scrubs exited a room further down the hall. One had a stethoscope draped over his shoulders. The two men chatted in hushed tones for a moment and then they went their separate ways.

Edward stated the word like a child learning how to attribute a specific color to an object for the first time.

"Hospital," Ed said to himself, watching as the man with the stethoscope entered another room. "I'm in a hospital."

Ed walked down the hall cautiously at first, although with every step, he gained confidence. He looked at the closed doors lining the right side of the hall. Each had a number followed by a name written on a plain white card. Ed read them quietly to himself as he walked by.

"32 B. Sarah Wesley. 33A. Warner Abram. 33B. Daria Poer. 34A..." That was Roy's room right? But the name...

Edward narrowed his eyes with confusion. It was wrong.

"Roy Van Hessler," Edward read, the pairing of words feeling so foreign on his tongue. He didn't like their taste.

Edward whipped his head around when he heard the sound of a telephone being put back on a hook. Right there, further down the hall on a small side table...it was a telephone! And the user had just finished making a call!

Edward raced forward, skidding to a stop in front of the table and the telephone. He quickly dialed a number and picked the phone up. As the phone rang and rang, he anxiously twisted the cord up around his index finger.

Edward's heart leapt when he heard the phone click on the other end. "Winry! Winry, I ended up in some sort of hospital and I don't know-"

When Winry cut him off, Edward's mouth fell open and the blood drained from his face.

"Hallo, dies ist Winry Richter. Darf ich fragen, wer spricht?"

A sickness spread through Edward's body and made his stomach turn. That was Winry. That was definitely Winry, but she was definitely not speaking in Amestrian, or any other language Ed knew for the matter.

"Hallo? Ist dort jemand? ...hallo?"

A ragged breath escaped from Edward's lips. "What's... what's going on?"

"Was redest du da? Bist du in Ordnung? Eduard, man kann nicht jemanden anrufen und sagen nichts zu Ihnen. Es ist nicht höflich..."

The phone slipped from Edward's fingers and clattered upon the table as he felt someone gently place their hand on his shoulder. As Edward slowly turned around, he noticed that the air suddenly smelled of cigarette smoke, but it wasn't faint like the smell around Roy. It was heavy. A cloud enveloping a chainsmoker like a thick winter coat.

Edward breathlessly lifted his head and looked at the orderly's face. And to Edward's surprise, he recognized it. His golden eyes widened as he whispered the orderly's name.

"...Havoc."

Jean Havoc took a long drag from his cigarette before speaking. As he did so, smoke slipped out from between his lips and twisted and curled in the air in front of him like dragon's fire.

"Funny how we keep running into each other like this," Havoc said calmly. "For the hundredth time, Ed, you can only use the telephone with a staff member's permission."

"Havoc... where am I?" Ed interrupted, his voice softer than a whisper. "I don't... I don't know. Tell me. Please."

Havoc's face softened with the concern and understanding that he gave to all of the patients in the facility. He took his cigarette out of his mouths and held it between his fingers.

"I see that you've reverted to your 'native tongue', but... I'm more than happy to accommodate, though my English is a little rusty. Anyway, it's..." Havoc paused and shrugged his shoulders. His blue eyes softened with sympathy. "It's happened again, huh?"

Jean waited for confirmation from Edward. But when Edward gave him none, he continued. "Well... you're in the Psychiatric Hospital of Dömitz. It's nice," he added. "Nicer than most."

"Where?" Ed questioned.

"Germany."

Edward narrowed his eyes upon hearing the unfamiliar name. He wet his lips before speaking.

"Havoc... how long have I been here in this hospital?" he asked firmly.

"Hm... well I don't really know exactly how long because-"

"How long, Havoc?!" Edward suddenly snapped, causing Havoc to jump slightly.

"Hey! Calm down! About... about six months!" Havoc said quickly, putting his hands out defensively. "You've been here for about six months."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> -It may be a bit confusing, but things will be explained in the following chapter.  
> -I don't know German. I just used Google translate. Winry's basically saying "Hello, who is speaking? Who are you? Are you alright, Edward? It's not polite to call somebody and then say nothing."  
> -I know fully well that in the original FMA, Edward understood everybody during his time in Berlin.


	13. [ Violations of Societal Norms ]

A few minutes later, Edward sat in chair in a small sparsely decorated room on the first floor of the hospital. Directly across from him sat Maes Hughes, who was a doctor in the facility. He was silently cleaning his glasses on the fabric of his white lab coat, and orange sunlight from the large frosted window behind glinted off of the metal frames. Edward watched as Hughes slipped his glasses onto his face, and then calmly looking at Edward, he crossed his legs one over the other.

Hughes frowned. He glanced away. He brought his attention back to Ed's face, and then he uncrossed his legs, placing the soles of his polished shoes firmly on the floor. He then leaned forward, folding his hands on his knees.

"Heiderich... I'm going to speak," he finally announced. "And you are going to calmly listen. Alright? We're going to have a peaceful conversation. Between equals."

Edward chewed thoughtfully on the corner of his lower lip. "You're being careful around me," he stated. "Like you're afraid. Why are you afraid of me, Hughes?"

"Heiderich, I-"

"My name is Elric," he said firmly. "My name is Edward Elric. Learn it."

Hughes closed his eyes, collecting himself and accepting Edward's proposition. He opened his eyes again and looked at Ed unblinkingly. "Edward... for the past few months, you have been ill. You are going through a certain form of... psychosis."

"You think I'm insane," Edward concluded.

"No, I never said that. All that I'm saying is that you have an abnormal condition of the mind, which leads to a certain... loss of contact with reality. In the past few months, you have displayed a spectrum of behaviors... characterized by certain abnormal mental or behavioral patterns, which we are currently monitoring in this facility. Your illness has a tendency of manifesting itself as what we would call 'violations of... 'violations of certain societal norms'."

"What does that mean?" Ed questioned.

"This is one of the best facilities in the country. Your family and your friends understand that you are a danger to yourself and others, and they feel that we can monitor your actions here. You've already displayed a tendency to be a danger to others in everyday circumstances. Recent example- last week, you lashed out at one of the orderlies, Jean Havoc. Gave him a good bump on the head and a bruised rib."

Edward narrowed his eyes with bewilderment. "I don't remember doing-"

"Exactly," Hughes interrupted.

"Wait a minute. You said... you said my family. What family? My father?"

"Yes, according to our files, he's currently overseas. He's employed as a professor in a university in America, and he's been there for quite some time. But he called two days ago to check in on you. I gave him a full report."

"I want to see my father," Edward said firmly. He didn't think he would say that in a million years.

"You can't see him," Hughes stated.

"Winry then."

"I'm sorry, but no."

"Is my younger brother alive? If so, I would like to see him now. Please, Hughes."

"I'm afraid that isn't possible either, Edward, your brother is sadly deceased. And you are forbidden from seeing or coming into contact with anyone outside of this facility. It's for your own safety and the safety of others; I need you to understand that."

"The safety of others?" Edward questioned. "You said that before. You think that because I have this... this loss of contact with reality... I'm dangerous?"

Hughes gave Edward a knowing and sympathetic smile. 

"Every few weeks, you wake up from whatever fantasy world you're in and you need reminding," he explained in a calm voice. "And that's alright, it really is. Your name is Edward Heiderich. You were born in America and you are of German descent. You've lived in Germany since you were nine years old, and you are currently in the Psychiatric Hospital of Dömitz, also in Germany. Your brother was eleven years old and he passed away seven months ago. He was residing in an apartment with you in Munich, and together you were under the guidance and care of a caretaker and tutor, Mr. Roy Van Hessler, who is also currently residing in this facility."

"What is the bastard here for?"

"You mean Van Hessler," Hughes said, sitting back in his chair. "Pedophillic disorder and acting upon the tendencies which are attributed to that disorder. He is also guilty of aiding and abetting a murder which happens to pertain to you specifically."

Edward froze. Wheels turned in his head.

"I... I don't understand. Aiding and abetting murder? Meaning that he... that he didn't actually commit murder?"

"Since you came around, has he ever admitted to the matter directly?"

Edward thought back on the last few hours. "No," he concluded, "the words, 'I murdered your brother' never actually came out of his mouth, but... Aiding and abetting murder?"

"Yes."

"Hughes... who killed my brother?" Edward asked softly, slowly standing up from his chair. 

Ed looked at Hughes expectantly, and Hughes looked right back at him, his face void of any emotion. Though Edward was standing up, he and Hughes were still almost at eye level. 

"I can't tell you," Hughes stated, his voice suddenly going soft. "If you don't already know, it wouldn't be fair for me to tell you."

Edward bared his teeth angrily and lowered his chin slightly. His fists clenched at his sides."If my brother is dead and somebody murdered him, I have the right to know, Hughes! Tell me!"

"I'm sorry, but I cannot."

"TELL ME WHAT HAPPENED TO MY FUCKING BROTHER, HUGHES!"

The dream.

Edward suddenly remembered the dream.

"Are you afraid, Brother? I certainly am..." Alphonse had whispered, blinking and ducking further behind the door. "I'm afraid, especially after what happened and after what I saw. Things happened that shouldn't have happened between me and you and Roy. They just weren't natural. I know that now..." 

Brutal realization came to Edward, and he paled. It was clear as day and so fresh in his memory that it could have happened mere minutes ago. Hughes looked on with concern as Ed slapped a hand over his mouth and clutched his stomach. Turning his head to the side, he gagged. He paused. He gagged again and stumbled to the left, taking the hand away from his stomach and placing a palm to wall in order to steady himself as his mind spun.

He was in that special place. That special place where he could be alone.

Well, not alone exactly. He had with him a horrible companion who never had a smile on his face. He only cried and begged and sobbed and screamed, oh damn all that was holy, that child could scream. He screamed until he couldn't scream anymore. Imagine that- having your only brother scream with terror every time you entered the room.

"Van Hessler led you on..." Ed heard Hughes state hesitantly and in a soft voice. "He convinced you to tie your brother to a chair in the basement of your apartment building. He considered Alphonse to be a threat to what the two of you had. And you... you put a blindfold over Alphonse's eyes and you cut his tongue out with a pocket knife. He choked on his own blood and eventually bled to death. That's what happened to your brother, Ed. I would never lie to you- I have no reason to. You murdered your brother."

Seven months ago, Alphonse sat with his wrists bound to the arms of a chair, the skin now chaffed and cut and scratched so it was now an angry red, tinged with an infected and diseased green and pale yellow. His head was tilted back and his mouth was wide open, frozen in a scream, the thick crimson substance had poured over his lips and down his chin and had cascaded over the front of his torn shirt like a waterfall, collecting in a spray in his lap.

Edward emitting a soft moan as his lips ghosted over the skin of his brother's sweet, soft neck, and he parted his chapped lips and opened his mouth slightly so he could tug and nibble on the boy's ear lobe. He hovered his lips over the unresponsive boy's ear once again. "What do you think I'll do to you, Alphonse?"

The smell of death hung heavy in the air, yet Edward calmly straightened, clasped his hands behind his back, and began to slowly pace in a circle around the chair, his footfall echoing through the dark and empty basement.

"What...what went wrong, Alphonse?" Edward questioned. "We don't talk as much as we used to. I know that envy got the best of you, but we still need to establish some sort of communication between the two of us."

Edward stopped in front of Alphonse and slowly doubled over at the waist, placing his hands atop Al's bound and bloody wrists. Ed studied his brother's face, and in a few seconds, his face twisted with emotion- sorrow and anger and regret all rolled into one as he silently placed a trembling hand over his mouth and turned to Mustang who had watched the entire scene from the corner.

"What have I done?" Edward breathed. "What have I done?"


	14. [ Worth It ]

Edward closed his eyes and slowly carded fingers through his hair as he crossed the basement, stopping at where Roy stood. Edward opened his golden eyes, shining with unshed tears, and he gently took hold of Mustang's warm hands. Ed took one hand away and reached up to push Roy's dark bangs away from his forehead before he stood up on the tips of his toes. 

Mustang brought his head downward a bit. Closing his eyes for just a moment, Ed planted a tender kiss on Roy's forehead before he slowly drew away, letting out a soft, shaky breath as he went back down on his feet. 

His eyes rose to Mustang's slightly parted lips. They then lifted once more, meeting Mustang's onyx eyes.

A heavy silence fell upon the two individuals. 

"You...you love me for me...right?" Edward eventually questioned in a soft voice. "You love me for not just what I am, or how I look, but for who I am too...isn't that right? You care about me. And those two girls- Elizabeth and Daria- the ones you took care of before Al and I... you don't care about them anymore, do you? And they don't care about you anymore either. And Alphonse can't care about you anymore, so... it's just you and I now, right? And we can be together." 

"Was it worth it?" Mustang questioned.

A small, soft smile danced upon Edward's lips. 

"Of course."


	15. [ Dear Journal ]

With tears in his eyes, Edward flew out of the room that he and Hughes had been conversing in and he took off running down the hall as fast as his legs would carry him, the world rushing by in a blur, his body driven forward by overwhelming emotion.

"HEIDERICH?!" he heard Hughes call. "Heiderich, come back!"

Edward didn't apologize when he roughly bumped into someone on the way up the stairs. A stranger called out to Ed, the sound of their voice echoing in the stairwell, bouncing off of a wall and following him as he ran out into the window lined hallway on the third floor floor. He skidded to a halt in front of the doorway to his room and he immediately rushed to the bookcase against the wall, dropping to his knees in front of it. Frantically, and with a crazed look in his eyes, he pulled books off of the shelf, opening them, scanning the pages, and then throwing the book to the side before taking another.

He heard footfall in the hallway. Hughes must have sent people after him.

It was then that Edward eventually found what he was looking for- a thin, leather-bound journal. He opened to the first page and found it scrawled with his brother's writing. Ed pulled an identical journal off of the shelf- his own journal- and he stood up on his feet, rushing to the doorway with the two objects in hand. Two doctors tried to block his way, but he shoved his way past them, only to fall directly into the path of another pursuer.

"NO!" Ed shouted sharply wrenching his wrists away from the hands that grabbed them. "NO! NO, LET ME GO!" he cried frantically, struggling against the doctors who tried to hold him back.

He needed to get out of there. Escape was the only thing that occupied his mind. Ed's elbow flew and connected hard with a doctor's nose.

"Fuck!" they exclaimed.

"LET ME GO!" Ed sobbed, his knees going weak. "OH GOD, LET ME GO!"

"We need you to calm down!" a female orderly said firmly, wrapping her arms around his chest and pulling the kicking and screaming boy close as an anguished wail erupted from his mouth, making her blood run cold as he clawed at her arms.

In his panic, Edward's eyes fell upon the wall of windows and the one large window at the end of the hall. The breath was sucked out of his chest. He had his target. His body went limp and the doctor loosened his grip on him, and that's when Ed took off and made his escape, taking off like a streak down the hall, pumping his arms, his feet slapping hard against the tile floor. The glass window came closer and closer and closer and then with the journals in hand, Edward vaulted off, using a forearm to cover his eyes as he crashed through the window.

And then Ed felt that horrible, horrible sinking sensation in his stomach when his body was put at the mercy of gravity.

\------------------------------------------------

 

**August 1st, 1911**

**Father left for his boat to America early this morning. He didn't say goodbye. That fact sort of made me sad, but I was happy that Brother and I had the apartment to ourselves for the morning and the early afternoon. Ed always does his best to keep me entertained when Father leaves for long periods of time.**  
**We played pretend. We pretended that we were in a strange and different world. We laughed. We giggled. We made lunch. We played checkers together in the living room, and Brother lost. He got upset and called a rematch. We were into our third game when our hired guardian for the next few months arrived with a gentle knock at the door.**  
**Roy Van Hessler was rather young. He spoke to us in English, and his accent was almost perfect. He had a smile that looked more like a smirk. He was handsome, well dressed, and he carried himself with his head held high. I don't know what it is about him, but I think that I could grow to enjoy his company.**

**-Alphonse**

 

 

August 15th, 1911

The bastard has been here for two weeks. Van Hessler cooks. He cleans. He gives Alphonse and I lessons in German, mathematics, and history. The man always complains that my handwriting is sloppy, and he makes rude comments about me all the time. He does it on purpose, because for reasons unknown to me, he likes to see me ticked off.

-Edward Heiderich

 

 

**September 22nd, 1911**

**Brother pretends to hate Van Hessler, however I know that the three of us are becoming especially close. Van Hessler enjoys teaching us and we enjoy learning from him in our private lessons. We like seeing Van Hessler smile. We enjoy his praise. We laugh and we joke during supper in ways that we only did when Mom was alive.**  
**Van Hessler treated us to sweets at an outdoor cafe this afternoon, and the entire time, we talked about detective novels that we liked. Afterward, we went to the park. Things were going smoothly until Ed fell and hurt his wrist. Roy... I mean Van Hessler... took Ed into the living room and wrapped his wrist up with bandages. Afterward, I watched from the doorway as Van Hessler took Ed's injured hand and brought it up to his lips. On the back of Brother's hand, he placed a gentle kiss. And for some reason, seeing that affectionate act filled me with a certain dread with which I was unfamiliar.**

**-Alphonse Heiderich**

 

 

September 22nd, 1911

Roy kissed my hand. And I blushed. Being around that man confuses me for some reason. I don't exactly know how to look at him anymore. What I mean is that something is changing between us in regard of our feelings toward one another. But I just can't put a name to those feelings quite yet. The word remains a mystery.

-Edward

 

 

**October 2nd, 1911**

**I was walking down the hall and I saw something that I probably shouldn't have seen. The door to the guest room where Roy was staying was wide open. The room was dark and it was late at night, but I could see the dark silhouette of Roy pinning my elder brother's back to the wall, taking advantage of Ed's injured wrist and using it to keep him from struggling. But Edward wasn't struggling- he was completely at ease. He and Roy were talking in hushed tones. I was about to speak up and say something, but I only watched in shock as Roy kissed my brother on the lips. And to my surprise, Brother kissed him back.**

**-Alphonse**

 

 

October 3rd, 1911

Alphonse was out of the house this Saturday, visiting his friend, Fletcher. Instead of having German lessons, Roy and I did something that we probably shouldn't have done.  
But I have no regrets.

-Ed

 

 

**December 3rd, 1911**

**I caught them kissing in the storage room. Roy had one hand underneath Ed's shirt and Ed had his fingers tangled in Roy's hair. They no longer see any need to hide what they have. This house is their sanctuary.**  
**Seeing them together pains me more than anyone could ever know. Roy has made it apparent which one of us he cares for the most.**

**-Al**

 

January 2nd, 1912

Alphonse isn't talking to me much anymore. Maybe I did something to upset him.

-Edward

 

 

**January 2nd, 1912**

**Brother and I weren't the first ones. Edward found out that Roy also had illicit relations with the young daughter and the even younger niece of his former employers. This revelation came with the news of the daughter- Elizabeth's- suicide that was reported on in the paper.**  
**I can tell that the knowledge that Roy once had feelings for another is sending Brother over the edge. He's clinging onto Roy like a lifeline. Meanwhile things between Roy and I have become tense. We don't talk anymore. He avoids me like the plague. I think he's realized the feelings that I have for him. And when he looks at me, he looks at me with disgust, which hurts all the more because I can remember so clearly when there used to be nothing but care and affection in his warm and gentle gaze.**  
**I need to do something. I need to set things right.**

**-Alphonse**

 

 

January 3rd, 1912

Alphonse went over the line yesterday.

-Ed

 

 

**January 7th, 1912**

**I used to have feelings of a romantic nature toward my elder brother.**  
**It was a crush really. And I knew for a fact that it was wrong and it was disgusting and it was horrible, and so I never voiced my feelings- I only kept them locked away. In order to take Edward away from Roy, the person I loved, or at least to cause friction between the two of them, I finally voiced my feelings toward Brother. And I acted upon them in probably the worst way imaginable. Now, like Roy and Edward, I am at fault. But despite this fact, I am surprised. Because when I physically acted on my feelings, Brother submitted to me with only the utmost grace. I'm not sure if this is because somewhere in his heart he returns my feelings, or this was because he knew about my attraction to his lover and he was acting out of spite. Either way, the bond between Roy and Ed is strong. They're keeping secrets from me- I just know it. Or maybe I'm just being paranoid- if so, I apologize.**

**-Alphonse**

 

January 7th, 1912

Alphonse went over the line. And maybe, out of my distaste for him and the feelings he had for my lover, I went over the line too, playing along and indulging him.  
In the meantime, Roy knows what Alphonse and I did. And I'm now paying dearly for it.

-Edward

 

 

**January 23rd, 1912**

**Roy is being especially rough with Edward and it's all my fault. My home isn't my home anymore and I feel like my entire world is turning against me. I just want things to go back the way they were, and I wish that I could take back every single thing that I've ever done, and have them not be fact and truth, but instead be a memory- something of fantasy. Something pretend and make-believe that Edward would concoct as a means by which to entertain me.**  
**I don't know how long I can last. I feel like anything that's coming my way is something that I deserve.**

**-Alphonse**

 

February 9th, 1912

A few weeks ago, Roy took me aside and explained something to me. And after much thought, I came to a conclusion. And I did something that I feared that I would regret. But regret never came. I don't think it ever will.  
I understand that I've done something horrible. But it was probably the best decision that I've made in my twelve years on this earth. I don't think that anyone will ever understand that.

 

 

A stomach turning thud was heard as Edward's body came into contact with the ground.

 

 

Like Roy, I see beauty in things that others do not.


	16. [ The Fall ]

**"Anytime," Mustang had replied, sitting upright on the bed. "But I thought that taking baths was bad for your automail. Messes up the wiring."**

**"That's right," Edward had replied. "I just had... I just had a breach of judgement- I wasn't thinking."**

 

"Oh sweet heaven above, what were you thinking..." Hughes muttered breathlessly to himself.

Edward hadn't been thinking. He didn't mean to do it.

Doctor Maes Hughes found Edward's tangled and broken body lying still on its side on the grass below the window, surrounded by shards of glass that sparkled like dewdrops at the first touch of morning sunlight. Also around his body were the two journals he had taken from his bookshelf, laying with pages open, worshiping the cloudless sky.

Hughes rushed to the motionless boy's side, but in shock, he simply stood there. The boy's left forearm unnaturally arched, curving like a bow. It was broken in several places. His ankle was twisted to the side in a way that could make anyone's stomach turn. Edward's golden eyes were open, though unseeing. The entirety of the left side of his face was slick with warm, scarlet blood that ran freely over his pale skin and pooled in his unblinking eyes.

Hughes blinked and quickly dropped down to the ground before Ed. Quickly, he put two fingers below Edward's jaw, feeling for a pulse, and then he put the back of a now bloodied hand just below Ed's nose, feeling for a breath. Hughes' heart swelled with a combination of pity and relief as he called back to his colleagues who were jogging over to him.

"He's alive..." Hughes announced shakily, lovingly pushing the twelve year old's blood soaked bangs away from his face with the tenderness of a father's touch. "You're alive, you're going to be alright, alright?"

He took hold of Edward's hand before turned to the three staff members behind him. "We're taking him to the general hospital- we can't take care of him here. Get a gurney."

"Edward, can you hear me?" Hughes asked gently, looking back at the broken boy laying before him and trying to stay calm for his sake. "If you can hear me, squeeze my hand."

Hughes waited.

Something twisted within his chest as the boy's crimson-painted lips quivered and eventually parted, opening and closing, shakily trying to form words.

"I- I- I can't... I can't move..." Edward whispered in a panicked voice. "I can't feel anything... and- and I... I..."

"Shh..." Hughes hushed. "It's okay, don't speak..."

Edward could hear the fear and the concern in Hughes' voice which only made him feel more distressed. A whimper escaped from Ed's throat as he tried to move.

"It's alright, Ed, stay still. You'll be fine- you'll be up and walking again in no time. We're taking you to another hospital where people can take care of you better. You're going to be fine..."

A weak, wet cough sputtered from Edward's lips, causing blood to sluggishly run over his lips and down his chin as Hughes gently rolled him over and put a hand behind his back, helping him sit up so he wouldn't choke. Edward's face twisted with agony and his back arched as a short, strangled cry clawed its way through his throat, setting free the tears that had collected in his eyes and now combined with the blood on his face.

Painfully, he turned his head so that he could face the man who was now cradling him in his arms. Blinded by pain, he thought the words that he wasn't able to speak.

Hughes, I... I just want things to go back the way they were, and I wish that I could take back every single thing that I've ever done. I don't know how long I can last. I feel like anything that comes my way is something that I deserve...

"I'm sorry," Edward suddenly choked. "I'm so sorry..."

And with those words the world faded into black.

Hughes was right. And Hughes was wrong, as people oftentimes are. Edward was rushed to the hospital where he stayed for thirteen weeks or so. Afterward, he went back through the doors of the psychiatric hospital walking on his own two feet. Hughes' prophecy was correct in that regard, but the man had also said that Edward would be alright.

And standing alone in the private bathroom connected to his room, Edward knew that 'alright' could never come to be.

He was standing in front of the mirror hung on the wall above the sink, the icy tile floor biting into the soles of his bare feet, eventually turning them numb. Solemnly staring at his reflection, Edward gingerly ran the pads of his fingers over his cheek, tracing the faint shadow of a scar that was one of the many physical reminders of his fall. His fingers rose upward and traced the plain of the white bandage that went over his right eye and traveled beneath his bangs, wrapping around his head of thin and almost blanched hair which had been cut short to allow room for a row of neat surgical stitches.

Ed paused, and looking in the mirror at his pale skin, his sunken cheeks, and the dark circles beneath his one un-bandaged eye, he leaned forward, bringing his face closer to the glass.

His reflection blinked once. And then it drew away, blinking away tears that welled up and using the back of an arm to wipe them away. Tears like that and the pain which accompanied it appeared often nowadays and without apparent reason, coming and going like the ebb and flow of an ocean tide.

Biting his lower lip, Edward lowered his head and carded fingers through his short, unruly hair and grabbed a handful of pale yellow locks, tugging slightly as if doing so brought him some sense of security. Still blinking away tears that never seemed to cease, he gripped the edge of the sink, and hesitantly lifted his eyes back to the mirror. The familiar, but impossible, figure staring back at him reached out and grabbed Edward's breath, dragging out of his lungs.

Blinking his bloodshot eyes, Edward stared and opened and closed his mouth, though no words came out. Alphonse stared back with his perfect lips slightly parted.

Alphonse stared back with his perfect lips slightly parted

"A-Alphonse?" Edward breathed.

"...Brother."

Blinking, Edward let out a soft and ragged breath, and suddenly a sickening heat rushed through him. Putting his hands to his head, he took a step away from the sink and the mirror, and in his shock and sorrow and anger, he took a quick turn about the small, empty room before a fist went flying and crack split the air, joined by a raw scream of frustration that erupted from Edward's throat.

"DAMMIT!!!"

Bloodied pieces of the mirror clattered down into the basin of the sink as Edward doubled over at the waist. Raking his fingers into his scalp, he opened his mouth wide, and let out a soundless wail before he fell to his knees.

Once upon a time, in Edward's dream... in that dream of things that weren't... Edward let out a shallow breath, burying his face into the bed sheets as Mustang pulled his towel away and tossed it to the side. He heard the springs of the mattress that he was laying on squeak slightly as Mustang shifted his weight onto it.

_"Oh, it's my fault," Ed had whimpered softly. "You and Havoc were close and I killed him, it's all my fault..."_

_"It isn't your fault," Mustang had said reassuringly. "It isn't your fault at all- you didn't know. And besides... Havoc wasn't completely innocent."_

_"I finally voiced my feelings toward Brother," Alphonse had written. "And I acted upon them in probably the worst way imaginable. Now, like Roy and Edward, I am at fault."_

_After Mustang spoke, Edward had gulped back a lump he had held in his throat. He wet his lips. "I can't live like this," he whispered as he felt the mattress shift again. "I feel like I'm going crazy..."_

In the the present day, tears flowed through the spaces in between Edward's fingers and pattered upon the tile floor as Edward choked back a sob and everything about that ghost came to haunt him.

Sitting there on the floor, he could feel it.

He could feel him like it was yesterday.

He could feel Alphonse's heat. He could feel his wandering touch. His own panic. His own discomfort. The taste of lips soft and sweet. Spinning out of control. Falling. Vulnerable. The soft whisper of bed sheets. Ragged breath caressing his skin. Fingers tangling themselves through blond hair, then moving down to the back of his neck, hands cool against flushed skin and down his collarbone and over his bare chest and lower. Trembling. Sighing. Fingernails digging into his skin, leaving bright red trails down his back. Breath heavy. Pleasure. Pain. Heat. Pleasure.

Falling.

Edward's shoulders hitched upward, and suddenly, it all stopped.

Time came to a halt as Edward shakily drew his hands down over his face and put his palms against the floor, pushing himself up onto shaky, weak legs.

"It... it isn't my fault..." he whispered, taking hold of the edge of the sink for balance. "It isn't my fault..."

Edward winced as the wounds on his knuckles opened as he shakily reached into the sink, taking hold of a piece of glass, wielding it like a knife and letting its razor sharp edges slice ruthlessly through layers of skin, painting his snow white wrist and the edges of the porcelain basin crimson.

"It isn't my fault..." he whispered. "It's not my fault, it's not my fault, it's not my fault, it's not my fault, it's Roy's fault."

It's all Roy's fault.

Wielding the blade, Edward took a step out of the bathroom. His legs trembled, however in his uncovered eye, there burned a fire.

"We're going to end this, Al, we're going to bring things back to the way they were- just you and me," Ed said, taking one step at a time toward the door leading to the hall.

Yes, this is going to end in blood.

"We're going to end this, Alphonse. We were falling.... and now we're finally going to meet the ground."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> After 17 chapters, the story's almost done. There are only two or three more chapters to go! But I feel like I must apologize for this chapter because the transitions are lacking.
> 
> I think that this might be one of the top 400 f*cked up FMA fanfics. Naw, maybe top 800.
> 
> The mirror part is a reference to the chapter [Beauty] and one of the quotes near the end is from the chapter [Sight] if I am not mistaken.


	17. [ On My Count ]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (A/N: The following two chapters contain mild sexual violence and graphic physical violence.

**October 13th, 1911**

**I remember the day that Al and I met Roy Van Hessler for the very first time. I remember it like someone remembers their own name.**

**You may not like your name. You might even decide to change it. But it stays with you forever and it's something written on your heart and locked into your memory.**

**It's a part of you.**

**And like a name, the memory of that first meeting will always be a part of me, whether I like it or not.**

**I remember that I was playing checkers with Alphonse in the living room. And after a while, we heard a knock at the door. Being the eldest, I was the one who stood up and answered it.**

**And there he was.**

**Van Hessler was rather young. Though he was German, he spoke to me in English, and his accent was almost perfect. He had a smile that looked more like a smirk. He was handsome, well dressed, and he carried himself with his head held high.**

**He was charming.**

**And I suppose that he found me to be charming as well. In the beginning, there was some unsaid mutual agreement between the two of us, or perhaps a shared respect or lack thereof. I guess that's what you would call a connection- being able to play a game without even voicing what the rules are in the first place.**

**In an earlier journal entry, I stated that there was something changing between Van Hessler and I in regard to our feelings for one another. But in the innocence that comes with my youth, I couldn't put a name to those feelings. The word has remained a mystery to me for quite some time. At this point, I don't think that there's a word out there which does it justice. I can't find a word, however, I do have a knowledge of many other things- about Roy Van Hessler in particular.**

**As silly as it may sound, I know that he's the lord of my heart.**

**He brings me pleasure. He brings me pain. The thought of him occupies my mind every hour of the day. He fills me up and makes me whole. He makes me feel things that I didn't know I could ever feel.**

**He's important.**

**He's my one. And he's my only. And I hope that he'll also be my always.**

**Now... well, I hate to admit it, even on paper, but... the truth is that I'm scared. I'm confused. I know that this is what I want. I know that Roy is who I want, and if I ever doubt that, I think back on the way he makes me feel and I am reminded that no one has ever made me feel this way.**

**He says that I'm his favorite. He says that I'm special. He says that I'm beautiful. He says that I'm perfect just the way I am.**

**He whispers sweet nothings into my ears as he takes me to bed. And he continues to shower me in these gifts as I wake up in his arms in the morning.**

**Roy is my world. And of that fact, I am sure.**

 

Edward was now on his knees on the floor of his room, sitting in front of the door. His hair was in that middle stage where it was too long to do anything with, but not short enough to keep out of the way. And so he used that as an excuse to ask Havoc for a bobby pin to hold his hair away from his face. He now used that same hair pin to work at opening his door, jiggling the piece of twisted metal inside of the lock.

When the door finally clicked open, Edward put the pin he was holding in between his lips, taking the end in between his teeth. He reached over and then took the jagged piece of mirror in hand, twirling it between his fingers before taking it with a firm grip, sending scarlet raindrops pattering to the snowy white floor as he stood up straight, looking out into the empty hallway before him.

"Alchemy involves two basic things," Alphonse had once stated. "Construction and deconstruction. Building and taking things apart. You built this world, Brother. You built it from the ground up. Now it's time to take it apart. It's time to destroy it."

"How come?" Edward had questioned with a confused look on his face. "Why is it time to destroy this... this world that you're talking about?"

"Because it's a puzzle," Alphonse answered curtly. "Puzzles are meant to be solved. Solutions are meant to be found. Answers bring us peace of mind."

Staring into his brother's eyes, Alphonse's smile fell, and the action was cataclysmic, sucking the oxygen out of the air and causing time itself to come crashing to a halt.

"And if there's anything you need in life," he continued, "it's peace of mind, Edward, especially after what you've done."

Letting out a ragged breath, Edward took the pin out from between his lips and stepped out into the hallway, quietly closing the door behind him.

The hallway was dark, lit only by the glowing moonlight that flooded in through the wall of windows to his left. In the summer, he would have heard crickets chirping outside and the occasional eerie hooting of an owl. But with winter came a disconcerting silence.

In this void painted in shades of soft bluish-white, every sound seemed deliberate and magnified a hundred times over. The quiet patting of Edward's bare feet meeting the glacial tile floor sent a vibration across the earth like the aftershock of an earthquake. Every whispering breath to whistle past his cracked and bleeding lips was a plea and a scream and a prayer for clemency in this forsaken hell, going unheard by the night guard whose footfall thundered away around the corner, the menacing sound growing softer and softer until it disappeared completely.

Despite the dread churning in his stomach, Edward pushed forward and continued down the hall. He almost passed by his destination, not because he was forgetful or in a rush, but because stopping at the door would make what he was going to do more real. But sure enough, he took a step backward and placed himself in front of the wooden gateway, which at the moment, looked larger than life.

Edward got to work unlocking the door with the hair pin, all the while hoping that the door wouldn't open.

But it did.

A click echoed through the hall like the sharp snap of fingers, causing Ed's heart to skip a beat upon sensing the sound's familiarity. He left the pin in the lock and picked up the shard of mirror once more, the moonlight bouncing off of its reflective surface as Edward cautiously stepped into the inky room and closed the door behind him.

Edward's eye eventually adjusted to the dim light, and he could just barely make out the outline of the bed and its four metal posts. Beneath the glowing white sheets was a figure who lay on his back with his head of raven hair placed upon a soft hospital issued pillow. One hand lay upon his stomach, and one arm was neatly arranged at his side.

Despite the mixed emotions he had for the man, as Edward stalked over with the mirror in hand, he couldn't help but think about how peaceful Roy looked. He couldn't really see Roy's face, but he'd woken up next to that man enough times to recognize how peaceful and almost fragile he looked as his chest silently rose and fell and his mind traversed the mysterious plain called dreaming.

Edward's entire body trembled as he experimentally placed one knee on the mattress, eye flicking to a still sleeping Roy before he climbed onto the bed completely.

He was on his hands and knees. His movements were slow, so not to wake the sleeping dragon, and he stood up on his knees with one knee carefully wedged between Roy's legs and the other on the outside. He was practically straddling the sleeping man, and he leaned forward, placing the palm of one hand on the mattress as he raised the shard of mirror up like a dagger, an eye threatened by tears focused on Roy's exposed chest.

A bloody trail drew its way down the boy's pale arm as he gripped the knife harder in the air, and his breathing grew heavier and more erratic as he thought back on all that Roy had done to him, every manipulative sugar-laced word that had ever escaped from between his perfect lips. Ed thought of his brother and the hate that had built up between them as they were put under Roy's spell, and he thought of all of the pain and the misery that Alphonse's death had caused...

And Edward spoke six words.

"I... I can't. I just can't..." he whispered weakly, shaking his head slightly as tears caressed his cheeks. "I can't; I'm sorry... I'm so sorry..."

Edward let the broken glass slip from his bloodied fingers and land softly upon the bed sheets. He shakily lowered his arm, and covering his mouth with one hand, he sat back on his knees.

The raven haired man beneath him finally stirred.

Edward gently set himself down at the edge of the bed, placing himself directly beside Roy as he gradually woke up, blinking the sleep from his obsidian eyes and letting out a gentle hum as he stretched slightly. He blinked slowly and his eyes fell upon Edward. A soft smile touched Roy's lips as Edward tenderly reached over and knitted his fingers through his thin, but glossy hair.

"Edward," Roy breathed, slowly sitting himself up against the pillows. "What are you doing here at this time of night?"

Edward cast his one good eye downward and closed his eyes for a moment, fighting back the urge to cry.

"I had another nightmare," Edward finally said softly, looking up and ignoring the ache which swelled in his chest as he spoke that lie. "I had a nightmare... and so I came to see you."

With that, Edward took hold of Roy's hand, knitting their fingers together. "My fingers are cold," Edward said. And it was true, though that wasn't his motivation for holding his hand.

He was looking for comfort.

Familiarity.

A breath whispered shallowly from Edward's lungs as he closed his eyes once more and drew both of his legs back up onto the bed.

His scalp and the back of his neck prickled slightly as fingers toyed with his faded, medium-length hair. A lock was picked up between two fingers, gently, almost as if the handler were taking hold of a baby bird that could be crushed if one weren't too careful. A soft breath was heard as Roy's fingers ran down the hair's length in a way that one would when entranced by a lustrous silk ribbon.

The fingers stopped just before they reached the lock's end. Roy brought the end of the lock up to its lips. And closing his eyes, he kissed it tenderly, just as a man would kiss the hand of a beautiful woman upon their first meeting.

"You're cold," Mustang repeated into Edward's hair, his baritone voice smooth and alluring.

"Yes," Edward breathed.

I'm so cold, I can't feel a thing.

Liar...

Edward felt the shadow of a hand ghost over his skin and cup his cheek. The hand didn't actually touch him, yet he could feel its warmth. Wanting more, Ed furrowed his brow painfully and tilted his head slightly, leaning his bruised cheek into the hand and sighing slightly with content.

Bed sheets rustled. The hand was taken away from Edward's cheek and Mustang let out a quiet breath as he hesitantly slipped his hands beneath the hem of Edward's night shirt, placing them against the soft, warm skin at Edward's waist, slowly bringing his hands upward, stroking Edward's sides, causing the boy to draw out a quivering a breath. Roy felt the shadow of Edward's rib cage lift as he breathed and he arched his back slightly in only the most natural and most delectable ways under his touch, Roy felt as the hit began to panic in his loss of control over the whole situation.

Edward shivered slightly as Roy's hands were drawn back down over the plain of his chest. Roy took hold of the hem of Edward's shirt and coaxed it up over his head to be left discarded on the floor. With a frown on his face, Edward cast his eyes downward, almost as if in shame. Roy came forward and placed a lingering kiss on Edward's cheek before he swung his legs off of the side of the bed and stood up.

"Give me a second," he said softly, walking to the door.

Edward had been in this exact situation before. The bedroom that he and Al shared was dark. Ed sat shirtless on the bed with his legs curled beneath him as Alphonse crossed the room and turned the privacy lock in the door knob, locking the door from the inside. The gentle click of the lock being guided into place jolted him from the tangle of thoughts that consumed him. He looked at Alphonse's back with a calm, expressionless countenance, but more was going on than met the eye. His heart raced inside of his chest and each controlled breath he took in just wasn't enough. He was trying to make sense of things. He was confused. He could still feel the tingling sensation of Al's lips pressed against his own.

But it was Al. It was his little brother.

His little brother had just kissed him on the lips, and Ed had no idea what to make of it. Confusion, desire, shame, curiosity, sickness, repulsion- he felt it all at once.

Every bone in his body was telling him that he needed to get out. He needed to leave. Now.

Alphonse locked the door and turned his head, looking at Ed from over his shoulder with a soft look in his large honey-colored eyes.

"You're beautiful... you know that?" Al cooed, his voice timid and testing.

Edward froze.

"You always were the pretty one," Al continued quietly. "For as long as I can remember, you've been the prettier brother. Maybe if the roles were reversed, things would have turned out the way I wanted them to."

Silence consumed the bedroom. Alphonse turned to face Edward and took a step toward the bed. Edward slowly pushed himself off of the bed.

With eyes fixed on Alphonse, Edward pressed his lips tightly together and let his emotions pull him toward the door. A warm hand grabbed Ed's arm, their grip tight and deliberate. Ed stopped and tried to pull away. Realizing that his brother's hold was a just a bit stronger, but strong enough to keep him from escaping, Edward did what he otherwise wouldn't have done.

He panicked. And in his panic, his fist went flying.

But the fist didn't meet skin- it met air, and Edward lost his breath as his cheek and his jaw were set fire and stung with pins and needles. The sound of Alphonse's slap reverberated through the room and Edward was launched into action again, struggling to twist his wrist away and strike at his brother so he could set himself free. Al took hold of Edward's other wrist and Ed thrashed about with his golden eyes glassy with fear and frustration.

"Let me go! Fuck, just lemme go! Al, what do you think you're-"

Edward wasn't able to finish his sentence. A jolting pain shot through Ed's shoulder as his arm was roughly wrenched back. A thud was then heard as Ed's chin and hips collided with the wall and Alphonse pressed his body flush against him. Adrenaline coursed through Edward's veins, causing him to breathe heavily as Alphonse tucked his face into the crook of his neck, humming softly with content as he breathed in the wonderfully familiar scent that belonged to none other than his elder brother and one hand wandered down over Ed's stomach, disappearing beneath the waistline of his pants.

Alphonse paused as he felt his elder brother tense up beneath him. Al wet his lips before speaking.

"If I were to kiss you again..." he whispered, "...would you shout? Would you run away?"

Alphonse felt Edward's shoulders quake beneath him. That was how he finally realized that his elder brother was crying, or at least, on the verge of doing so.

"Brother, look at me," Alphonse said, spinning Edward around.

Edward looked at Alphonse with pained, glassy eyes and a lower lip bloody and swollen from being bitten too hard. Alphonse slipped his hands onto Edward's shoulders, and squeezing them gently, he gazed into his brother's soulful eyes. The air felt silent and still, holding its breath as it waited for something more to occur. Something was teetering on the edge of a cliff, threatening to fall and have wind rush through its ears, having the ground eagerly rise up to greet them, followed by a blinding pain and a darkness as shards of broken glass pattered softly against pale skin like fallen rain.

Edward had felt that unnerving calm as he stalked the man in black with Hawkeye's gun in his trembling hands. Standing in the alleyway, dread sank into his stomach like the cold wetness from the rain which had soaked into the back of his coat from the brick wall he was leaning against.

Ed looked around the corner.

"One..." Ed whispered breathlessly. "Two..."

Ed let out a quiet breath and saw it curling and twisting in the air before him like smoke from one of Havoc's cigarettes. A tormented spirit writhing about in the air.

"...three."


	18. [ Peace of Mind ]

Edward quickly stepped out from his hiding place and the air shattered as his automail finger squeezed the trigger, the recoil sending a shiver through his body as Alphonse quickly cupped his cheeks and guided him forward.

Edward was violently thrust into the present as chapped lips collided with soft and something surged within Edward as Roy opened his tightly closed mouth with his tongue, dominating his mouth as the overcoming heat around them rose and teeth clashed with teeth.

Still standing against the wall, time sped by in a blur as Roy knitted fingers into blond hair as tongue continued to explore mouth- desperately, hungrily, greedily- the kiss deepened until Roy broke away leaving Ed breathless and weak in the knees. Roy then dipped his head and nipped and sucked and gently tugged at the skin at Ed's neck, just below his jaw, leaving bruises and sending Ed's head and rolling back. A whimper escaped from Ed's lips which shifted into a strangled moan as Roy put hands on his hips and pulled Ed toward him, rolling him forward, grinding him against him his heated body. Edward's arms were drawn up around Roy's neck as lips met again and hands were placed under his thighs, lifting Ed up, wrapping Ed's legs around Roy's waist.

As soon as Edward was pushed down onto the bed, he quickly shuffled back and attempted to sit up like a drowning man trying to breach the surface of the water to feed his burning lungs the air that they needed, but as soon as he broke the water, Roy took hold of his neck with one hand and forced him down again, straddling him. Edward's back came into contact with the mattress. Edward desperately writhed beneath Roy, hyperventilating and clawing at Roy's hand. Edward bared his teeth and arched his back as Roy kept one hand on his neck and ran the other down over his stomach. Edward let out a strangled cough and his cry as an electric sensation shot through him and his vision went white with stars.

Ed blindly took hold of the piece of glass that lay forgotten beside him in the bed sheets.

 

**...I love how he loves me.**

**But... I'm not sure if I love how I love him. Perhaps the only way to put an end to this feeling is to separate myself from him.**

 

Edward's breath caught in his throat as he saw Roy's body stiffen. The man still was looming over him with his hands at either side of his head, but his dark eyes were now vacant and glazed over, lacking a certain light. Past Roy's lips dribbled warm, crimson blood which trickled down and fell upon Edward's pale cheek and rolled down the side of his face like tears.

Dizziness and nausea swept over Ed in that horrible moment, but before his body could react to the heated sickness that overcame him, he roughly twisted the glass that he had stabbed through the side of Roy's neck and pushed it in deeper, sending a wet warmth trickling over his trembling hand.

 

**But I know for a fact, that could never happen. Not in this world, nor in any other.**

 

"...of course not..." Edward breathed shakily. "Of course not."

Ed let out a quiet gasp as he wrenched the piece of mirror out of Roy's neck and dropped the bloody knife onto the bed beside him. He quickly reached up and tenderly linked his arms around Roy's neck, looking up and having golden eyes search glassy obsidian.

Roy's arms trembled, and with eyes wide, Edward gently guided downwards into an embrace, letting their chests press against each other.

And Ed calmly closed his eyes, feeling the shaky, shallow rise and fall of Roy's chest, feeling his heartbeat slow and slow, and finally come to a stop.

And for the first time in a long while, Edward felt ever so slightly... at peace.

 

**Sincerely,**   
**Edward Heiderich**


	19. [ Twelve ]

**_He was only twelve years old._   
_But one is never too young to learn an important lesson about love._ **   
  


After a while, Edward gently pushed Mustang's cold body off of him and peeled himself off of the blood soaked mattress. He stood, put on his shirt, and walked out of the room. Shutting the door slowly, he had his eyes fixed on Roy as if the man could wake up at any second, though he knew that doing so was impossible.

Edward stared with his body numb and his head vacant of thought. And the door closed with a quiet, satisfactory click that resonated through the air.

With his hand still on the knob, Edward closed his golden eyes, let out a quiet breath, and then turned, heading back to his room.

He didn't turn on the light. He headed straight for the closet in the corner and collected his only possessions. Over his hospital scrubs, he slipped on a light, but over-sized, crimson pea-coat whose large pockets contained odds and ends- mementos of life before:

Some loose change, a small photograph of his mother, a yo-yo, a candy wrapper, his father's pocket watch, a playing card that he'd tucked away while playing a game of slap-jack with some of the local boys.

Around his neck he wrapped the warm knitted scarf that Winry had gotten for him years ago, and his feet he pulled on a pair of socks and black rubber boots. After that, he was off. He stepped into the dark hallway and went all the way to the end where he found a medium sized pull lever built into the wall with a thin sheet of glass over it. Without a second thought, he lifted the glass and pulled the lever.


	20. [ The Nothing ]

"It was..."

Edward's words trailed off and faded away.

He was sitting cross legged on his bed, and the metal springs of the mattress whined beneath him as he fidgeted- playing with his mint green hospital gown and picking at the white bandage which wrapped over his right eye.

Becoming disinterested in the bandage, Edward then turned and looked out the nearby window. It was the day before he had pulled the fire alarm, and soon enough, the dark wall of towering pines in the distance would be laced with the snow that now steadily fell.

And watching the snowflakes do pirouettes in front of his bloodshot eyes, Edward almost felt so...  _cold_. And almost so lonely even though he knew he wasn't, and the key word held within these two statements was the word 'almost'. He was almost so numb, and yet so close to sensation he thought that maybe if he took his fingers and grabbed fistfuls of his sickly yellow locks cut short, the feeling of the oil and dead skin on his fingertips would fuel him just enough to feel emotions that needed to be felt in order to step forward and change something.

From his nearby chair, Hughes recognized Edward's actions as discomfort, and tried to approach the question from a different way. It was what he had been trained to do, and it was what he planned to do with his daughter after she was born, and was walking, and talking, and discovering life's trials and little hardships.

"Try starting from the beginning," Hughes suggested, his voice soft and gentle.

Clenched fists of hair uncurled.

The beginning?

Oh no, no, no, not the beginning...

The beginning was too far away, too convoluted to recollect, too dense to describe, too much to figure out where it started. Only a few weeks ago, Edward was immersed in a completely different world, so much so that he thought his fake beginning was real. Right here, right now, he couldn't quite bring to memory which beginning to relay.

But in his mind, the middle...

Oh, he could feel it on his skin, he could feel it dripping down his forearms over goosebumps breaching for air, this sickening warmth, this sickening heat, this sickening elixir of life pouring from the vessel that contained it.

"After I cut out my brother's tongue, I slit his throat. I thought it would be quiet.  _Immediate_. And in theory, it is," Edward began to explain, "Severing a trachea below the larynx stops the screaming alright- it stops the screaming. It also severs the carotid artery in your neck, so blood doesn't reach the brain and give it the oxygen it needs. You'd think that such a powerful and important thing such as the brain could hold its breath for just a little while. And it can, but what also happens is that the heart..."

_**In the dark, Edward froze, his heart dropping to his stomach as the squeal of the floorboards underfoot was heard outside the open door of the guest room that Roy Van Hessler had made his own. From within the room, his back pressed against the cool surface of the wall, Roy's knee pressed between his legs, and his injured wrist pulled forcefully behind his back, Edward glanced around Roy and over at that shadowy spot in the hall.** _

_**"Al's watching," Edward breathed, his voice as quiet as he could manage, his trembling body as still as he could possibly make it.** _

_**But in his hunger, Roy ignored Edward, roughly taking a hold of his chin and keeping it still as he covered the boy's mouth with his own, hot tongue forcing its way between his lips. And in that moment, Edward felt so disgusted with himself, and so violated... but with this came just enough sick, twisted exhilaration that he continued on, and kissed Roy back. And later, Edward tasted him on his lips, and Edward let him use, and degrade, and dirty him from the inside out in the most horrible of ways.** _ _**For when Edward loved, he gave all of himself.** _

"The heart... it's out of control," Edward continued, his eyes cloudy and unfocused. "It doesn't know... when.... to stop," he breathed, "Or perhaps it does, but it doesn't want to, and so it continues to work, even in your dying moments... and it continues to pump, like your arms as you break out into a sprint away from your all problems. It continues to pump, as it has been doing since the beginning, squirting blood warm with life from the artery in your neck until there isn't anything left to pump. It continues to work, and it struggles as you gasp for breath through your severed wind pipe, and you gargle blood- a loud gasping, a choking, a dry drowning, a-"

Edward paused, trying to find his breath and struggling to find the word with which to collect, and identify, and describe. He breathed in and out softly, the sound heard as wild eyes widened with wonder.

"It was all very beautiful," Edward whispered, looking at the empty air before him.

_**Edward looked up from the game of checkers he and Alphonse had been playing on the living room floor as the front door of their family's apartment squealed open. And into the home Roy Van Hessler stepped, the smile on his face ever so warm and ever so bright.** _

"Like a dream," Edward added. "It was all like a dream..."

Hughes crossed one leg over the other, and with a curt click of his pen, he quickly scribbled words into the little notebook he held in his hands.

"So you... you studied this beforehand," he guessed, looking up from his notebook. "What would happen if you slit your brother's throat?"

"I didn't need to," Edward said calmly with a shake of his head, "I already knew. I like anatomy. I see beauty in things that others do not, ya see?"

Hughes frowned slightly, unsatisfied with the answer that he received. Twirling his pen between his fingers, he moved on, putting a reassuring smile on his face.

"And how did you feel?" he questioned gently.

Edward blinked with confusion, his head tilting slightly to the side. "How did I feel?" he repeated.

"Talking about your feelings will make you-"

"Please don't say that," Edward interrupted, an almost pained look on his countenance.

"Why not?"

"I don't care about feeling better," he replied quite honestly. 

"Well  _I_  care about you feeling better. I'm sure that Winry and your father feel the same."

Edward wasn't quite sure about how he was supposed to react, and perhaps, that was a manifestation of his problem. A manifestation of his 'almost feeling', this 'almost understanding'. And so he said what he thought that he was supposed to say. What he thought was acceptable.

"I'm not so sure about that, but thank you."

"And how did you feel?" Hughes asked again.

"He changed me... Ya know? That's what lovers do. Lovers and... and crazy people..."

"And do you think it was for the better? This... change?"

"I lost sight of what was real."  
  
 ** _Edward hesitantly turned the music box upside down and brought it over the basin of water, the surface rippling as it was stroked by delicate fingers on a single open hand. As the ballerina slowly spun around, Ed's eyes followed the fingers up to a thin, pale wrist, and from there, they traveled up a long, pale left arm, half expecting to see dark red liquid trailing down it._ _  
_ _  
_ _"Elizabeth Henbrook..." Edward whispered with wonder._ _  
_ _  
_** _The music box suddenly slipped from Edward's fingers and fell into the basin, sending water sloshing over the sides, falling onto the table and onto Edward's bare feet as his head whipped around._

"I wasn't myself," Edward said, "It's sort of scary how... How someone can come into your life and change you. Change the way that you think and act and... and  _feel_. Through the things that they say, the things that they do- their actions, their care, their violence. "

_A warm thumb gently wiped away a tear which had rolled from Edward's eyes and out from underneath the blindfold that covered them. Ed whined quietly when the warmth of the finger was taken away._ _  
_ _  
_ _"You're crying," Roy stated gently. "How come?"_ _  
_ _  
_ __**"B-b-because I'm happy!" Ed whispered, "I'm your favorite- that's who I am! I had forgotten... and now my search is over," His voice then broke, sliding into a quiet sob. "I'm so happy..."**

"Maybe one of these days, I'll be brought back to the person that I was. Because... since the beginning, I wasn't really myself. Or maybe I just lost sight of who I was along the way- maybe... one of these days, I'll feel something again. This nothing will go away, and I'll do something that I've never done before- something I never thought that I could do..."

_**Edward's breath caught in his throat as he saw Roy's body stiffen, almost like it did whenever he finished inside of him, filling him up in all the ways that he wanted to be, and in all of the ways that he didn't. Roy Van Hessler still was looming over him with his hands at either side of his head, but his dark eyes were now vacant and glazed over, lacking a certain light that should have gone off as hot, crimson blood trickled down from his parted lips.** _

_**Dizziness and nausea swept over Ed in that horrible moment, but before his body could react to the heated sickness that overcame him, he roughly twisted the glass that he had stabbed through the side of Roy's neck and pushed it in deeper, sending that wet warmth of Roy's life staining the skin of his hands, his vision burning as red as Roy's blood.** _

"I'll do something that I never thought I could do..." Edward breathed shakily.

_**...And then I'll retreat into the nothing.** _

Across the sprawling snowfield before the Psychiatric Hospital of Dömitz, in the midst of the snowstorm, a boy did trudge, hugging his crimson coat closer around his shivering body as he fought against the howling winds which beat against it. 

And as the falling snow clouded his vision, Edward almost felt oh so cold. And oh so lonely, even though he knew he wasn't.


	21. [ Life Lessons ]

"No, I don't think so," one of the orderlies later told Hughes over the phone in German, "Yes, everything's alright in that department, Sir, we're trying to figure out who pulled the fire alarm at this very moment."

Fuery stopped speaking and nervously shifted his weight as Hughes spoke. He shook his head slightly and continued to talk.

"I wish that were the only thing we have to worry about, but we have a much bigger problem at hand. I phoned the police, but in this snowstorm, they won't be here until morning. At this rate... make that the afternoon..."

"What're you trying to say, Fuery?" Hughes asked, looking out dark window of his home at the heavily falling snow which collected on the windowpane.

"He's gone," Furey stated.

Hughes narrowed his hazel eyes with confusion, bringing the phone closer to his ear. "Who's gone?"

"It's Edward. He's run away. Poor boy doesn't know where he's going- he unlocked his bedroom door, and when we're were leading people out because of the fire... or what we though to be a fire... he just took off running into the woods. We've tried looking for him, but it's no use at this time of night, and besides that, it's freezing out. At this rate... well, we don't know if he'll make it till morning, sir, I'm sorry."

Hughes put a hand to his forehead. "Oh, dear god... No, you did your best, okay, so was... was Roy with him? Did he put him up to it?"

Fuery closed his eyes and let out a quiet breath, working up the nerve to tell the horrible truth.

"...Roy's dead, sir. Stabbed in the neck."

Hughes thought that he was going to be sick. He opened his mouth, but no words came out at first.

He tried again.

"Did-?"

"Did Edward do it?" Fuery interrupted quietly, "Well I hate to say it, but... but yes, it sure does look like it."

Hughes looked out the window, searching the world of white before him as if trying to find answers in the falling snow.

"I'll be there within the hour," he said suddenly. "Stay put. Keep everyone calm."

With that, he put the phone back onto its hook. Six minutes later, he was out the door and in his car, driving down the snowy road much faster than he should have been driving.

He gripped the wheel so tightly that his fingers went white. The car was cold and dark and his breath swirled before him like a tormented spirit before it became captured in the iced over windshield. In no way did it hinder his driving- with the forest of dark pines at either side of the road and the snow falling heavier by the minute, he could barely see anything anyway. The headlights which broke the night only illuminated about five yards in front of him.

He couldn't have known.

He would tell himself that later- he would tell himself over and over again- he couldn't have foreseen that. But still, it haunted his memory- the moment captured like a snapshot- time frozen in place.

A small bundled up child standing in his headlights with skin as white as snow itself and one golden eye wide with terror, shining like the sun and lighting the darkness around him with an eerie glow.

Hughes quickly shut his eyes and turned his face away, stepping on the brake as the windshield shattered, sending bloody shards of glass flying into the car as there was a thud heard above him on the roof. With no traction on the snow, the car swerved, making a large arch around on the front wheels and coming to a jolting halt as its rear end collided with the truck of a tree, whipping Hughes' head to the right and sending it crashing into the window.

There was darkness.

Hughes didn't know for how long he was out- he really couldn't tell. Putting a hand to bloody head and tiredly blinking his eyes, he sat upright, and the cracked windshield before him dripping with Edward's blood brought him spiraling back to reality.

The headlights were still on, and Hughes groaned painfully as he forced his aching body out of the car. He left the door open as he shakily stumbled over to the small body laying sickeningly still upon the snow speckled with streaks of blood.

The world was still. The world was quiet. A panic fell upon Hughes as he paused stared at the boy laying facedown in the snow. He thought it was over. And just when he thought that the boy's miserable life had come to an end, a strangled cough jolted the boy's body. The boy coughed again, the sound hitching at the end as if he were about to throw up, but still, the small form shakily lifted itself onto its hands and knees, it's breath heavy and uneven. As Hughes gazed upon Edward's bowed head and he saw his face twist as he let out a soundless wail, his body was tugged forward. Hughes's boots crunched the snow beneath them as he ran over and dropped to Edward's side, putting a hand on the boy's back and curving an arm underneath his stomach, catching him as his trembling arms and legs have way beneath him.

Hughes shifted the way he was sitting so he could hold the injured boy on his lap. His own throat clenched and his lip quivered as if he were about to sob. He definitely felt like he could.

"Edward?! Oh god, Edward, I'm so sorry, I'm sorry..." he said, tenderly running a hand over Edward's bloody head.

The entirety of the left side of the boy's face was painted a sickening crimson and the slick liquid dribbled down into his mouth and his one uncovered eye. His face wrenched with agony and his back arched beneath Hughes's gentle hold as he let out a strangled howl of agony.

Edward's body relaxed, but his chest rose and fell in sporadic spurts as his breathing quickened. He was hyperventilating. With tears intermingling with blood, Edward forced himself to look up at Hughes and reach upward, grabbing onto the lapel of the man's royal blue jacket. Edward's mouth opened and closed as if he wanted to say something. But no words came out. He turned his head and looked away as Hughes lifted his broken body upward, putting a hand behind his back and an arm underneath his knees.

"Edward?" Hughes called frantically, feeling a warm wetness at the boy's back, "Edward, look at me- you need to stay awake..."

"Put me down..." the boy whispered hoarsely, his voice barely audible. Hughes paused, his heart wrenching in his chest. "Please... just put me down..."

"Edward, I-"

"P-please H-H-Hughes..." Edward whispered, his becoming softer and softer as he went on. "I... I can stand. I can. I can stand... just... oh, please just p-p-put me down..."

Hesitantly, Hughes complied, gently setting Edward down on his feet. He made sure that Edward was steady before taking a hand off of his back, but when he saw Edward fall, he reached out and grabbed ahold of his frozen wrists, steadying him.

It was then that Edward snapped, an almost primal scream tearing its way through his throat as he suddenly struggled. Hughes didn't know where this energy was coming from. The boy kicked. He tried to hit him. He tried to pull away.

He tried as if his life depended on it.

"NO, JUST LET ME GO!!!" he sobbed, trying to tear his left wrist away. "Just let me go!"

Hughes watched with a combination of shock and pity as the boy came unraveled. Ed sniffled and gasped and choked, sobs coming from the pit of his stomach as he came forward and gripped the lapses of his coat with frostbitten fingers.

"Edward, stop it!" Hughes begged, "you need to stop!"

"No!" Edward choked, looking up at Hughes desperately, "You don't understand Hughes, you need to let me go! No longer... No longer am I going be controlled by- by my  _insecurity_  and  _desire_ , and- and I won't be  _driven_  by  _lust_  or  _jealousy_ , and I won't let my grief, my guilt, my self-loathing... or my lack of worldly goods to drive me to act against my morals! No matter what..." he trailed off. "No matter where I am, no matter the forces that are acting upon me... I'll be me," he said, his voice breaking. "I'm me. And from this point on, nothing in this world or in any other will change that. Now... just let me mourn." Edward begged, shaking his head. "Please, just let me go home, Hughes, it's alright. Really, it is- you don't need to look out for me anymore. Just... Just let me go. Just let me go, just let me-"

He was cut off as he was pulled into a warm embrace.

For a long time, the air was silent.

"I'll drive you there," a voice finally said. "I'll drive you home."


	22. [ Motherland ]

And Hughes kept his promise.

Sometimes things don't end well. Sometimes they do. Sometimes they end, and the end isn't an ending at all, but instead, it's a beginning.

That's what you would call a new chapter. And to start a new chapter with a truth and a promise and a realization... well that isn't too bad of a new chapter after all, no matter how bad the ones preceding it and no matter how dark and bleak things looked before.

A new chapter is a renewal.

Hughes brought the boy home where he was well received by his wife. Edward was cleaned up in the bathroom and the bandage drawn across his face was changed. He fell asleep sitting on the couch after having been given a cup of tea. The family doctor came later and stitched him up.

A few days afterward, Hughes looked in the rear view mirror of his car and smiled softly at the boy who slept soundly in the backseat with his cheek against the window that fogged up with every breath he took. It was about an hour before they arrived at the apartment building where Ed and his younger brother had grown up.

Hughes carried the boy out of the car and up the stairwell. The key was in the potted plant beside the door where it had been left long ago.

Hughes set the boy down at the doorway and watched as with tears in his eyes, Edward looked the dusty apartment up and down with a certain childlike wonder. He let out quiet but breathy sigh as he took a turn around the living room. He sat himself down upon the couch in front of a coffee table upon which was set a checkerboard abandoned in the middle of the game.

Ed then looked to the door and Hughes smiled halfheartedly before turning around and leaving Ed to himself.

Ed looked intently back at the checkerboard. He silently leaned forward and folded his hands over his knees before he tilted his head to the side and smiled wistfully.

"Dad didn't say goodbye when he left," Edward said softly. "And that made you sad, but... but you were happy that we had the apartment to ourselves for a few hours. I always did my best to keep you entertained. We... we played pretend..."

He paused.

His voice broke and with tears gently caressing his cheeks, he covered his mouth with one hand. "And we had so much fun together, Al, we really did... And... and we laughed and giggled... and I made us lunch. And afterward, we played checkers together in the living room..."


	23. [ World's End ]

  
"...and because it made you happy... I let you win every single time."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have emerged from this fanfic, aka war, and I feel sorta kinda maybe good about it because this crap is finally over, but I'm in denial that the war ever happened in the first place. I am in complete denial that any fucked up things occurred in this story.
> 
> Anyway, I hope that you found some sort of enjoyment in reading this. If not, tell me how it could be better.


End file.
